CR Catering
by Faran1078
Summary: Boone and Shannon go into business together as discussed in Christmas Vacation.
1. Chapter 1

Shannon was sitting in her office, but kind of perched up on one hip, her long legs stretched out over an open drawer, shoes dangling by the toes. She was staring at her computer monitor, the manicured fingernails of her right hand drumming on the plastic edge of her keyboard.

He passed in the hall, glancing quickly in through the open door. After a classic double take, he took a few steps backwards, and leered at her legs, giving her the up and down, or side to side in this case, given the posture, thinking himself unnoticed.

"If you've finished perving on me, can you please get your skinny butt in here and take a look at this?" She didn't even take her eyes off the screen.

"Yeah dear," Boone laughed at being caught out, dutifully entering and crossing to stand behind her so he could see the display, resting his hands on her shoulders and massaging them gently. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, then paused, sniffing.

"You smell good." He observed.

"Huh? What?" She pulled away and frowned.

"You smell good." He repeated himself.

"I'm not wearing anything." She protested. "I was running late for the Thompson appointment this morning and didn't have time for perfume."

He shrugged, "Doesn't change the fact that you smell nice." He sniffed her neck again, "Baby."

She screwed her face up at bit, mystified. "Yes Honey?"

He chuckled at her misunderstanding, "No, I meant you smell like baby."

"Babies have a smell? Other than baby shit I mean." She thought he was nuts.

Where the hell was her maternal instinct, Boone wondered? Oh yeah, she'd been shopping when it was being handed around. "God you're clueless sometimes. Yes Shannon, babies have a smell."

"Hmmmm, whatever. You're so gay Boone, only you would think that." She scoffed, but thought about the fact that Linda Thompson had forced her to hold her newborn. Well, not forced exactly, Shannon had protested once, then mindful of public relations, had pretended to be thrilled at cradling the infant for five minutes. CR Catering had been contracted to do the after christening party. But she hadn't told Boone she'd held the kid, yet he evidently knew that she had. So maybe he had a point about the whole baby smell thing.

"Fuck off." He rolled his eyes. Yeah he was gay, yet had sex with her almost incessantly.

She punched his shoulder. "Anyway, look at this."

"Okay, what?" He returned to the starting point of the conversation.

"This," Shannon lifted her legs off the open drawer, depriving him of his view, and set her feet on the floor swivelling in her chair to face her monitor. He frowned a bit in disappointment.

"Later Boone, focus you shithead." She pointed at the screen like it should mean something to him. "The Turner's want to book the same day as the Spencer's have already reserved."

He shrugged, not seeing the conflict. "So the Spencer's booked first. You tell the Turners no. It's a non issue."

"But there's more profit in the Turner's function, and it's in the afternoon, the Spencer's isn't until the evening." she answered. "And when I told them you were already booked, they agreed to pay an extra ten dollars a head over the usual premium we already charge for you."

"But the Spencer's booked first, Shan." He repeated. "As I recall _you_ were the one who came up with the rule that we wouldn't double book me, and I can't be in two places at once." Even with the scheduling difference, there was always set-up and tear down, so there was bound to be a few hours of overlap. "There was also something about me _not_ burning out too."

"But there's more profit in the Turner's," she whined again.

"I know you've turned into an excellent business woman, Shan, but what are you, a Ferengi? I think I've created a monster, suddenly it's all about profit?" He displayed his geeky Star Trek Next Gen knowledge; then smacked his forehead when something else occurred to him. "Good lord, did I just say Shannon Rutherford and businesswoman in the same sentence? There's an oxymoron!" She gave him a scowl at that. "This venture was supposed to be about keeping both of us happy, satisfied, and busy. We've got more than enough money if we lived to be two-hundred." His eyes widened at the thought of living another 168 years with her.

"I got that you know!" She picked up on his thought and punched him again.

He winced, not at the punch, just at the fact that she'd read his slightly panicked random musing.

"Ask the Turners to change the day," he said.

"I'll try," she agreed doubtfully, "but I don't know, it's a birthday party."

"Why don't we just send Kevin to the Turner's?" he suggested. It was what they usually did if they had two events for the same day, as an actual professionally trained chef, Kevin easily handled the assignments.

"But they're willing to pay even more than the usual surcharge for _you_ Boone." Shannon pointed out. It was customarily an additional twenty-five dollars a plate if Boone actually went to the venue to cook. They'd decided to tack on the steep charge to dissuade people from demanding his presence. He still liked to keep his time as free as possible outside of office hours, and absolutely hated spending his weekends working and away from his family.

Her words made him feel a little like a male prostitute. "Well unless they've finally come out with a home cloning kit that really works, there's only one of me and I'll be at the Spencer's," he retorted.

She momentarily considered the possibility of two anal retentive, but totally hot, Boone Carlyle's, and smiled a bit at how pleasant that particular fantasy would be.

This time he punched her. "Okay that time, _I_ got that!" He muttered 'anal retentive' under his breath.

She smiled at him seductively and won a kiss for her effort. "Just look at the numbers, Boone, and see if you can come up with anything." She pushed away from the desk, "I have to go check on something."

As she stood, he slid his hand over her ass. She rolled her eyes at him as she left the room.

He sat at her desk and focused on the screen. His first line of attack was to try and squeeze some more profit out of the Spencer function, hoping that it would appease her. He made some changes to the relative quantities and ingredients of the meal he planned without sacrificing quality and was pleased as the bottom line went up.

When the phone rang, his hand shot out automatically, picking up the receiver without even considering letting it go to voice mail, he'd forgotten that he wasn't sitting at his own desk. "Shannon Rutherford's desk," he chirped, thinking what an idiot he was.

"Is Ms. Rutherford in?" the caller questioned, reasonably.

"No, I'm sorry, she's just stepped away. I'm her business partner, Boone Carlyle, may I help you?" He might as well try to salvage the situation.

"Boone?" The female voice on the other end of the line repeated his given name like she was questioning his identity, not the absurdity of it.

"Yes. Boone. I know it's kind of odd." He took a long shot based on her tone of voice, "Do I know you?"

"It's Irene." She identified herself.

"Irene? I'm sorry, but I don't…" Sudden realization flooded through him, as the sound of the voice activated part of his memory. "Irene? Irene, who used to work for me, Irene?"

"Yeah," she responded, pleased he remembered her.

"Wow! How're you doing?" He asked sincerely. They caught up a bit on each other's activities. Knowing that she was probably pressed for time, and realizing that he had things to do as well he fast tracked the conversation, asking, "So why were you calling Shan?"

"Actually I was calling to hire you guys." She'd done a bit of a double take when she'd been given the name 'Shannon Rutherford' as a contact by her clients, but had reasoned that it could possibly be a common enough name that it was just a coincidence, though the way things had turned out obviously not she had to concede.

"Us? You want to hire CR Catering? And you said you still work for my mother, right?" He chuckled, grinning at the irony of it. "Well Shannon usually makes all the arrangements, but I can make a note of the basics and she can call you back later. Um, we don't normally do any catering in the city, it's kind of far and our food's pretty rustic, not as frou frou as you normally get there," he warned.

"Actually speaking of your food, I hear your chef has a list of food rules, things he will and will not cook. His food must be pretty good for your clients to put up with that. Where did you get him? He sounds like quite the diva."

"I am not!" Boone denied indignantly, the whiney tone of his voice making him sound exactly like what he was protesting he wasn't.

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about your chef." Though, she remembered from working for him that he did have more than a bit of the diva quality about him.

"So am I! I am not a diva. I just care about what people eat!" Now he just sounded pouty, and petulant.

"You're the chef? How the hell did that happen? You have a degree in business admin." This was getting more surreal by the minute she thought.

"You've never heard about changing careers?" Boone defended himself.

"Yeah, but a chef?" she questioned.

They went on for a bit discussing Boones' lack of profession training, but obvious natural talent for his new found profession.

He asked for the details on the location, pointing out again that they didn't usually do events in L.A.

"Actually I think the place isn't too far from you." She gave the name of a small town not more than a half an hour drive. "But you'd better prepare yourself for a lot of business coming your way from the city," she warned. "At the planning meeting this morning, after I mentioned that I was contacting your company, several of the others said they'd been hearing quite the buzz and were planning on calling you too."

Boone carefully wrote a few quick lines in his ever present note book to remind himself to discuss with Shannon how they were going to deal the that eventuality. He didn't relish the thought of making the two hour drive very often and had no intention what so ever of relocating. This was his family's home, the only one Andrew had ever known and he wasn't going to uproot them simply because of the new career path he'd chosen.

He got the nature of the event; a reception to mark the occasion of the bride's remarriage and estimated number of people, then asked for the date.

"June twenty-third," Irene provided.

"No," he put the pen down, wishing he'd asked that first, it would have saved a lot of wasted time, though he _had_ enjoyed talking to Irene. "We're not available, sorry."

"Damn, I knew it was a long shot being only six weeks away. I warned the clients that you might already be booked, but the bride's father was particularly insistent that it be you." She sounded regretful. "So you're already contracted for that day?"

"Well no, not really, but in a way I guess we are." He realized that he was babbling like a complete moron, making no sense at all. He attempted to clarify, "That's Andrew's birthday. At least it'll be his birthday party; his actual birth date is the twenty-first. Shannon and I agreed when we started this that that was one of the days the company wouldn't accept any business."

"His birthday party?" she sounded a bit incredulous. "Couldn't you just have his party on the Sunday?"

"No, and it's not open for negotiation." Boone said decisively.

"How about having it the weekend before?" She suggested, disregarding his last word.

"Irene," he said her name with a bit of an edge to his voice. "I said no. End of discussion."

She sighed; remembering how immovable he was once his mind was made up, and thought for a minute. "Okay, look, you're actually the first call I've made for this event, so the date might not be written in stone, like yours' obviously is." She added a bit snidely. "Let me talk to the clients, maybe they'll switch it to the weekend after." She couldn't believe that she was going to ask for a wedding date to be changed simply because of a child's birthday party.

At her request Boone checked the computer and confirmed that the thirtieth was open. He agreed to hold the date for a few days until she got back to them.

After hanging up he went in search of Shannon, dying to tell her about the ironic nature of the phone conversation.

In a round about way his mother wanted to hire him again, albeit in a different capacity than the job offer he'd accepted at a naive twenty, too blind to the manipulation that should have been obvious. This time, however, he'd had the personal satisfaction of saying no, though he felt a bit bad about Irene.

He had no doubt that Shannon would find the situation even more amusing than he did.


	2. Chapter 2

The daily morning planning meetings took place in the spacious and luxuriously furnished boardroom of Carlyle Enterprises, Sabrina imperiously chairing them from her position at the head of the table. She had scoffed when the interior decorators had originally spec'ed a round table for the space and had fired them instantly. Obviously people who would suggest such an outlandish idea had no insight into her, or how she expected every aspect of her surroundings to leave no question as to exactly who was in charge here. The other end held a tray of beverages; no one had sat there since Boone had left. His chair had remained, but empty, after the crash and until his rescue, and then had immediately been removed and disposed of when he'd resigned.

Irene took her seat a few chairs down on Sabrina's right. With attrition running its' natural course, she'd advanced further and further towards the table's head as her seniority moved her closer and closer to the merciless glare of the company's president.

The schedule, updated each and every morning, appeared on the screens of the electronic tablets recessed into the easily concealed compartments on the surface of the table in front of each chair. Given the technology, it was a different table, of course, from the one that had had the two Carlyle's face off against each other, but it was still the same shape and size.

Each staffer gave a brief progress report as their turn arose. Finally Sabrina turned to Irene. "I see that the date of the Jackson wedding has been changed."

"Yes, the caterer's turned down the contract for the 23rd." She answered the implied question.

"Turned down? You mean they were already booked? Please be clear with your answers, Irene." Sabrina frowned in irritation.

"No actually they weren't already booked, their son's birthday party is going to be on the 23rd, and so they said no." She clarified, thinking that Sabrina should already know that, wouldn't she be invited to her own grandson's birthday?

Sabrina looked at her in disbelief. "They certainly won't be in business very long if they're in the habit of turning down lucrative assignments for a child's birthday. They'll run out of money and go under in no time."

Irene became increasingly perturbed. She checked the screen to be sure that the name of the catering company was correct; Sabrina was talking about them like they were strangers. "Uhm, actually when I was speaking to one of the owners, I got the impression that this is more a labour of love than anything." She glanced, without meaning to, at the place Boone used to occupy.

Sabrina cleared her throat, pointedly drawing Irene's attention back to her.

"And I'm very confident that they won't run out of funding, they come from money." She was starting to get the distinct impression that Sabrina had no idea about Boone's new business venture. She wondered if she could have a little fun with this, and still end up with a job at the end of the day. "And they also both got really big insurance settlements, it was in all the papers about ten years ago, there were part of a group who sued an airline."

"Money or no, they obviously have no management experience what so ever." Sabrina dismissed Irene's observations.

"The female partner seems very professional, though I think you're right that she doesn't have any actual experience. Still when I spoke to her we concluded everything very quickly, and she faxed the signed contracts back to me within 15 minutes. And the male partner has a business degree, he's run a company before, in fact more than once." She was starting to enjoy herself, but she was soooo getting fired later. Maybe Boone would consider hiring her, she speculated.

"Hmpf, more than once? Must have been released then for ineptitude." The girl was starting to irritate her with her continuing defence of these people.

"No, he quit, and now he's changed professions too." She wondered if Sabrina knew even that much.

"He probably had to quit _and_ change professions, because of his poor reputation." Sabrina was beginning to believe that there was something that Irene was hiding.

"I doubt it. I think he just really wanted to be a chef instead, at least that was the impression I got when I talked to Boone." She let the name come out as nonchalantly as she could.

The pieces suddenly falling into place, Sabrina glared at her, her jaw muscles clenched. She realized the woman had purposely played her for a fool, in front of her employees, and she'd fallen right into it.

She abruptly turned to the man directly across the table from Irene, progressing to the next staff member. She would deal with the insubordinate Irene, and her disappointment of a son, in private, after the meeting. "Ralph, report!" she demanded.

Irene managed to talk her way out of dismissal later in Sabrina's private office. Her doe eyed innocent insistence that she'd naturally assumed that Sabrina knew all about her son and step-daughters' new business venture had been met sceptically, but the logic of her stance couldn't be denied.

Irene, for her part, couldn't believe that she'd actually flirted with throwing away such a well paying job just because she'd realized that she temporarily had the upper hand on her boss. She'd become accustomed to the upscale trappings that she could afford on her substantial salary. While she knew that she could easily have found a position with another similar company in the city, there was a certain cache about working for Carlyle Enterprises.

Sabrina considered having her secretary get Boone on the line for her, but this was a private matter and she preferred dealing with it herself. She speculated that gossip might swell after the travesty of the meeting this morning, which was followed by her announcement to Irene of, "Miss Sutton, my office now," as they all filed from the room.

She spent two fruitless hours alternately calling Boone's cell, only to be told that the subscriber was unavailable, and then, after getting CR Catering's phone number from the company data base, calling his work number and extension, each time frustratingly being put through to his mail box. She had made a small exclamation of disgust when, during her first call, the automated attendant had listed Shannon's name, extension and title before his.

As her annoyance mounted, and she got his chipper voice mail announcement for the third time, she pressed zero for the receptionist.

"CR Catering," Margie announced a sincere smile in her voice. She loved her job. Most of the people who called were so nice, all excited about whatever special event the company was going to be catering, and Boone and Shannon made her feel like family, as they did all their employees.

"This is Sabrina Carlyle. I want to speak to my son." Her officious voice grated in Margie's ear.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Carlyle, but Boone is unavailable just now." She forced herself to be pleasant in spite of the imperious tone of the woman on the other end of the line. Boone was in the kitchen, and Shannon had instituted a strict rule that he wasn't to be disturbed in there unless it was an emergency.

Sabrina's eyes narrowed in anger. "I'll speak to _Shannon_ then." She spat the name as if she was trying to rid herself of a nasty taste in her mouth.

"_Ms. Rutherford_ is out of the office, but I can put you through to her voice mail, or take a message if you'd like." Her voice became overly syrupy as she used Shannon's last name. If the woman on the other end of the line was going to try to pull rank, then she was too.

Sabrina hung up without saying anything further, only to call back an hour later. Margie recognized her voice immediately, of course, and once again told her that Boone could still not come to the phone, in fact, she informed her, _Mr. Carlyle_ would most probably be busy for the rest of the afternoon.

"Is Shannon back then?" She gritted the question through her teeth.

"Ms. Rutherford _is_ in her office, I'll see if she can take your call, one moment please." Margie pushed the hold button and made a face at the receiver. "Shannon?" she called out.

"Yeah Margie?" she answered from across the hall; her office was so close to Margie's desk that they rarely used the intercom.

"There's a woman on the phone, this is the second time I've spoken to her today. She wants to talk to you, she _says_ she's Boone's mother." Though how he could be so sweet and his mother so unpleasant made her wonder if she really was.

Shannon winced, already reading Margie's tone. "Is she nasty and condescending?"

"Yeah, little bit," she allowed.

"Then it probably is." Shannon slouched in her seat, sighing in resignation then pushed the button next to the flashing light. "Shannon Rutherford." Might was well make this professional.

"Where _is_ Boone? I want to speak to him." Sabrina demanded.

"He's busy, Sabrina." Shannon told her the same thing Margie had, she'd peeked into the kitchen when she'd gotten back to the office and seen him whisking away at something in a large bowl at his workstation.

"I'm sure he's not too busy for me. I should be able to speak to him anytime I choose; I'm his mother, and I insist on talking to him immediately." She announced perfunctorily.

Yeah, and I'm his wife, and his sister, and his business partner and his best friend, Shannon thought to herself, and _I_ don't even disturb him in his kitchen. She kept from saying any of that of course, the business side of her not wanting to piss Sabrina off any more than she already was. There were a lot of potential contracts that could come their way from Carlyle Enterprises.

Shannon explained about her rule and started again to apologize when she suddenly sensed Boone's approach. "Hang on a sec, Sabrina, I think he's coming down the hall right now and might be available." She pushed the hold button, as he came in her office, flopped down into one of the guest chairs in front of her desk, and closed his eyes. "Your mother's on the phone," she told him in a tentative voice.

He winced, "Awww fuck." Opening his eyes again, Boone leaned forward and held his hand out for the receiver.

Shannon listened to his side of the conversation, watching his reactions carefully; ready to take the phone away from him if it looked like his mother was turning malicious and starting to upset him. He'd been in an uncommonly consistent happy mood since their return from Aspen, and she didn't want anything to ruin that for him. The joy he derived from food preparation seemed to keep his chronic depression at bay better than any psychotherapy or meds ever had.

She observed as he went from apologetic to defensive, his posture starting to slouch. She was just about to terminate the call when he straightened in the chair suddenly appearing angry. Shannon wondered if Sabrina had started to say nasty things about her, her suspicion confirmed at his next words.

"No mother, I have not lost my mind, _again._ I know she has no experience, but how's she supposed to get any if someone doesn't give her a chance. And besides, she's doing an excellent job, I'm really proud of her, you might even be too." He paused, obviously listening. "Yeah, I'll get right on that, I'll send her a memo to fire herself, that should go over well." He tipped his head back, and pinched his eyes closed in frustration. "Fine then, you _come_ here, but not on a personal level, what I choose to do is none of your concern. You can come here strictly on business," he spat. "You're a client now and entitled to see the place if you want. Shannon will give you a tour, but you'd better be professional, this turns personal and you'll be out the front door," he warned. He didn't care how much business he might be losing with those words, it had been a long day and he'd had enough of her just then.

Shannon's eyes widened at the thought of being alone with Sabrina as she showed her around. She started shaking her head at him, a motion he couldn't see, given his posture and closed eyes.

"I don't care if you don't like my tone, this conversation is over." He informed her. "We'll expect you on Friday at 11:30. I'll have Kevin make us some lunch…no scratch that, I'll make it myself, and after Shannon gives you the tour we can have lunch together."

Shannon started shaking her head even more vigorously, then sent a resoundingly panicked '**NO**' a little too forcefully into his head.

The word hit him with the force of a small explosive device detonating in his brain and he rocked back hard enough into the chair to send it teetering on its' rear legs for a second, then toppling it slowly backwards with a crash. To add insult to injury, his head bounced painfully on the thin industrial carpet that covered the floor. The coiled cord that connected the receiver to the phone pulled taut for a second, then the device flew off her desk and bounced against the upholstered bottom of the chair. Shannon stared in shock for a second at the soles of his shoes then jumped up and ran to him.

Amazingly enough he still had the handset pressed to his left ear. "I have to go mother," he concluded the conversation, transferred the receiver to his right hand and, opening his tear and pain filled eyes, tossed it up to her.

She caught it, bent to hang it up, and returned the entire unit to its' place on her desktop, while Boone threw his legs back over his head, rolled over his shoulder so he could kneel then rose to his feet a bit shakily.

In the outer office, Margie had heard the noise and wondered if this was one of the times that Boone would need the first aid kit, or if he'd broken something again, and she should bring the broom and dust pan. Given that it sounded more like a thud than a crash, she opted for the first aid kit and went to get it.

Boone pressed the heel of his right hand to his temple and turned on Shannon. "What the _fuck_ was that for? Jesus Christ, Shannon, I think you gave me an aneurysm!"

"God, Boone, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it to be so loud, I'm really sorry." Her words were met with a scowl as he continued to rub at his head. "I just, I don't want to be alone with her, and Friday is Andrew's P.D. day at school, so he's off, and you told him he could spend it here." She explained, needlessly as it turned out.

"I fucking know that, Shannon," he replied, angrily. "I asked her for Friday _because_ he's off. He can go with you and act as a buffer when you show her around. I know you don't want to be alone with her. And he'll want to come for lunch too. He doesn't like it when I meet with her and he's not there. He knows just as well as you do what effect she can have on to me."

"Oh." She said in a small voice. "Sorry?"

Margie showed up at the office door with the red nylon first aid bag in her hand. When she saw that Boone had his hand up to his head, she unzipped it and dug around for a band-aid, thinking he'd cut himself.

"Unless you've got something in there that can keep the brain matter from oozing out of my ears, I'll just take a bottle of aspirin." He took the container, muttering his thanks, and went to the door. "I'm going to my office to take several dozen of these and lie down for half an hour until I have to pick Andrew up at school. Then I'm going home, and I'll probably lie down there too. Fuck Shan, cut me some slack, sometimes I actually _do_ know what I'm doing."

"I'm sorry," she called again, as they heard his footsteps retreat down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

Sabrina was impressed with the place despite her best efforts not to be.

When Shannon and Andrew had come to meet her at the entrance in response to Margie's page, she'd been surprised, and pleased, at her grandsons' unanticipated presence. She'd commented in typical grandmotherly fashion, although nothing about Sabrina could truly be classified as typical grandmotherly, that Andrew needed a haircut. Then had gone on to tell him that his hair looked a lot like his father had worn his in his late teens, all shaggy and thick with long bangs that had framed his face and stuck to his cheeks, though Boone's hair was brown and Andrew's blonde.

He'd smiled a bit in pleasure at being compared to his dad, and had dutifully kissed her.

Shannon kicked off the tour for her step-mother with their two offices, each one reflecting the personality of the respective occupant, and as different in design as the partners were in character.

Boones' office was done up in dark wood; mahogany, but the furnishings were light and minimalist in construction, the clean lines reminiscent of Scandinavian modern.

Instead of the ubiquitous desk, a rectangular table with finely tapered legs sat carefully aligned squarely in front of the credenza that graced the back wall opposite the door. The only items on the table top were a telephone, a desk caddy with the usual office supplies; a three tier in/out tray; the in basket predictably empty, all work having been dispensed with, and the latest in lap tops. On the credenza there were only two things; a large photo of Andrew and a slightly smaller one of Shannon.

The guest chairs were upholstered in a geometric pattern of varying shades of blue and the couch, long enough to accommodate his small frame fully stretched out, in a solid blue. The walls were painted blue grey, a faux finish giving the impression of expensive linen.

Shannon's office was a study in complete contrast to his, the desk and credenza sizeable and ornate with raised and inset panels, the stain a light honey pine. Her desk was angled in a corner and covered with a jumble of files and papers, a small make up bag sat in the centre of her lap tops' keyboard. The surface of the credenza was completely obscured by another layer of paperwork with a large picture of Boone and a smaller one of Andrew.

Her occasional chairs were done up in a large floral print, predominantly pink, with the sizeable overstuffed couch covered in a co-ordinating stripe. The couch hid a pull out sofa bed. It hadn't been planned that way, but it had been the one she'd liked the best and it had only come in a convertible model. Once they'd thought about it, they'd realized that, given the late hours they often worked due to the nature of the business, maybe it was actually a fortuitous coincidence. They'd yet to use it, though it was already made up with sheets, the comforter and pillows stashed away in the closet. The walls of Shannon's office were a dusty rose, glazed in a marbling effect, and each office also had a private bathroom with a shower stall.

The public spaces were all a muted though warm beige, the furnishings comfortable, but unremarkable. There was, however, a decidedly eclectic scattering of items throughout.

Boone had had the idea of asking each of their friends to contribute something that would be of significance only to them. A reminder of the year of hardship, forging of bonds and personal growth that they'd spent together. They had, of course, added the proviso that each and every one of them would be reimbursed in full for any monies spent, but unsurprisingly, none had taken them up on that part of the offer.

Sawyer had, predictably, told them to fuck the hell off, he had better things to do than spend his valuable time buying them some tacky singing bass wall plaque. So when FedEx had arrived at their door with a box marked fragile, the sender identified on the way bill as James Ford, they'd opened it together with anticipation and curiosity.

When a shadow box displaying a first edition copy of Watership Down had emerged from the foam popcorn cushioning the treasure, they'd looked at each other, neither ashamed of the tears that glistened in their eyes. Each subsequent offering had been received with almost equal emotion.

The salt water fish tank that had been Jack's contribution held two sea urchins and sat on a stand in Boone's office. Boone had named the pair Scott and Steve, of course having no idea which one was which. He had, years before, ceased feeling guilty over any possible complicity he might have had in Scott's gruesome death. On the all too frequent occasions when, one after another, several of the original survivors had fallen victim to the dangers of the island, both natural and not, he'd realized that even if he'd been sitting and staring at the guy instead of sleeping at his sentry post, he'd probably not have been able to prevent his murder anyway.

There was a framed oil canvas in one of the meeting rooms, an original of Michael's. It was a view of the beach from which they'd left the island upon rescue, the place where they'd last felt the undercurrent of life that the place sometimes seemed to exude. They both remembered how they'd leaned against each other, Boone's arm around her shoulder, hers around his waist, as they'd watched the patch of sand recede into the distance, conflicted feelings of relief and sorrow filling them. They always paused, however briefly, in front of the picture, homesickness and nostalgia holding their eyes on the view depicted.

The roughly woven twig and eucalyptus wreath from Sun had been claimed by Shannon immediately upon its' arrival, and hung on the wall in her office.

The pewter Asian symbols from Claire were displayed on the walls in various spots, a label with their meaning pressed inside the hollowed out cavity of each ones' back. Upon finding that one of them translated as serenity, Boone quickly proclaimed ownership of it. Being the science fiction fan that he was, Serenity was actually one of his favourite movies, a spin off from the depressingly short lived TV show Firefly. In addition, he figured he'd need all of the attribute that he could get now that he was both living _and_ working with Shannon. That he found himself looking at it frequently to help him calm his frayed nerves didn't surprise him in the least.

The gifts from the other five were similarly found places of importance.

The tour concluded in the hallway outside the kitchen, a window had been installed in the wall affording a full view of the space. It had been Shannon's idea, she wanted to be able to see into his inner sanctum without actually having to walk in and disturb him. For this space they'd hired a professional kitchen designer, who, after lots of input from Boone, had proudly unveiled the finished product upon completion. Not only had it been completed on time, something they'd learned was almost unheard of, it exceeded his expectations. He'd happily written a long letter of appreciation, and had his name posted on the man's web site below an excerpt from the glowing recommendation.

Sabrina watched her son, mesmerized as he turned from counter to stove, expertly flipping something in a skillet; then pointed at something else with the knife still in his hand, giving directions to an assistant. Then he turned back to chopping something on the board in front of him not looking at the flashing blade as he asked a question of someone else over his left shoulder. She was amazed at seeing how capable he was in a setting in which she'd never imagined him. The hardening of her heart against him actually eased up a bit and she found herself almost smiling at his obvious happiness and astounding competence.

Andrew caught the thought and smiled up at her. He was so intensely proud of Boone he'd never understood how his grandmother couldn't possibly be too.

Boone looked to the window as he sensed their scrutiny.

'Hey baby, how you holding up? How's she been?' He asked Shannon with concern, and smiled and nodded at his mother.

'She's actually been okay,' Shannon told him with relief, 'and Andrew says she really likes the place. How much longer are you going to be?'

Boone picked up a fork and stuck it in something in a pot, 'Five,' he gave her an ETA on lunch.

'We'll wait for you in the tasting room.' She ushered Sabrina down the hall and into a room that had a round table covered with a floor length pink cloth overlaid with a smaller square blue one, set with a service for four.

A girl came in with a basket of fresh baked whole grain buns and four plates of salad. It was a take on the usual Italian mozzarella and tomato one, but he'd drastically reduced the fat content by chopping the cheese into small cubes and serving it on a bed of tomatoes and baby greens which included basil.

She poured wine for Sabrina and Shannon then told them that Boone had said to go ahead and start without him. There was already a glass of milk in front of Andrews' place and a jug of iced jasmine tea by the vacant chair. They'd just finished the salad when Boone joined them, balancing places for each of them. He apologized for not joining them immediately, but they had a function that night, and the kitchen was hopping.

Sabrina looked down a little askance at her plate, the contents seeming terribly pedestrian. He served Shannon next, she rose from her chair stepping back a pace from the table, and gave him a kiss, pulling the backwards baseball cap off his head and fluffing the imprint of it away.

He asked about the tour as they all started the main course.

Boone proudly explained the adjustments he'd made to each dish as Sabrina sampled them, her scepticism giving way to appreciation. The porcini gravy that topped the turkey meatloaf elevated the possibly bland meat to a new level. The orange kumquat glaze and sprinkle of currants replicated the red exterior and orange core of the heirloom carrots and the garlic flavoured yellow flesh of the mashed potatoes was flecked with the brown of the scrubbed skin as well as chopped parsley and chives.

Sabrina was amazed at how delicious and gourmet the usually home style dishes were.

During the tour Shannon and Andrew had explained a little bit about the type of fare they offered, but now Boone expanded on it. "It's really all about filling a niche market that I identified as being under serviced."

Andrew went to an inset shelf on the back wall and came back with an information packet for her.

As she perused the contents of the marketing folder she saw that they did all manner of events, from business luncheons to kid's birthdays. The mission statement of the company was boldly printed on the inside front cover of the folder. It blathered on about diet and nutrition, finishing with a comment about the epidemic of obesity that was ravaging the population.

Sabrina thought it was slightly more political and opinionated than it should have been, but then Boone _had_ always been a bit of an activist.

"Is everyone finished?" Boone asked politely, already starting to rise to clear the table and pour coffee for the ladies.

Andrew eyed Boone's only half finished meal unhappily. "You aren't," he pointed out with a frown, keeping his voice low.

Boone took in the look of concern on the boy's face and reluctantly forked up a few more carrots. 'Okay now?' he asked silently, Shannon and Sabrina had gone back to their discussion and he didn't want to disturb them, or draw their attention back to the role reversal temporarily existing between himself and Andrew.

After coffee things were still going well enough with his mother that Boone took her back to his office and shared his business plan with her. He followed that up with a peek at the actual results, showing her that, given his typically conservative estimate, they were well ahead of forecast.

She reached a hand out and placed it on his forearm, squeezing it gently, giving him a brief smile and nodding.

He knew it was all the recognition he was going to get out of her and quite honestly far more than the begrudging acceptance that was the most that he'd hoped for.

Bidding her goodbye at the front door, they were shocked when, after hugging and kissing Andrew, she did the same to each of them as well.

Shannon's eyes were as large as saucers as she considered that Sabrina had quite possibly lost her mind.

Sabrina quickly regained her usual cool exterior and nodded curtly, telling them that she was going to be adding them to her personally authorized list of preferred suppliers. Not content to leave on a high note she added that she hoped that they'd be up to the challenge of the increase in business and wouldn't give her any reason to regret the action. After that she turned abruptly and left.

Boone gave a wry chuckle and shook his head a bit. Trust his mother to end an otherwise pleasant visit with a mild threat.


	4. Chapter 4

They discussed Sabrina's visit that night after dinner, both of them agreeing that it had been a bit of a head shaking success.

They were in the bathtub. It was something they'd done with more frequency since they'd discovered the decadent intimacy of bathing together in the Jacuzzi of the ensuite in the rented chalet in Aspen.

They were reclined against opposite ends of the large oval tub, Boone was massaging her feet, the scent of the bath oil permeating both the hot moist air of the bathroom, and her skin, as his fingers worked their magic. Shannon's eyes were closed and she sighed in contentment, a hint of a smile tugging every now and then at her lips.

"I spoil you rotten, don't I?" Boone broke the silence.

"Hmmmmhmmmm." She nodded slightly and agreed. "But you love doing it. You're all about giving, Boone."

'And you're all about taking. It's a perfect match.' He silently agreed.

She opened her eyes and sat up a bit, pulling her foot out of his hand and reaching for the razor on the ceramic tile ledge that separated the claw footed tub from the wall. She flicked the flipper hand for the hot water with the back of her wrist, appreciating again that he'd had the foresight to have the tap mounted in the middle of the side instead of the more traditional end.

Shannon lifted her leg out of the water and put her foot on his shoulder, sliding down the bottom a bit so she should reach. She leaned forward and handed him the small plastic item.

He took it with a smile, arching an eyebrow and chuckling. "I live only to do your bidding, my Queen."

"Good thing too, or I'd have to have you beheaded and that would be quite a waste. Good used white boys are hard to come by," she jested, and reached to shut the faucet off.

"Glad I rank so high in your estimation." He drew the blade carefully down her calf, making sure that the strip with the lubricant was making full contact with her skin.

"I was thinking about where we could go for summer vacation," Shannon commented.

"_Summer vacation?_ We just got back from our last holiday, and already you're planning on going away again?" Boone laughed.

"Well, we didn't go away last summer," she complained.

"No we didn't," Boone agreed, "because, as I recall, you'd just come back from a _six year holiday,_" he pointed out, an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Shut up asshat." Shannon splashed a bit of water at him.

He instinctively flinched, almost nicking her. She frowned at him in warning. "Sorry Your Majesty," he acceded, mockingly. "So where were you thinking?"

She named a bunch of possible adventure type activities, including bungee jumping, but he dismissed them all, Andrew being far too young for most.

Shannon, becoming increasingly frustrated as each suggestion met with negativity, finally threw out white water rafting.

Boone smiled. "That's a great idea," he responded enthusiastically.

"Finally!" she rolled her eyes.

"So where were you planning on going for this adventure?" He moved on from her left leg to her right, lifting it out of the water.

Shannon hadn't really been prepared for this question, after all, it had to have been at least the tenth suggestion she'd made and she'd really just pulled it out of her ass as a last ditch effort. She thought quickly of all the places she guessed it might be offered and named them in succession.

Boone chuckled at the diversity of the list. "Won't you ever get tired of travelling? Jeeze, but you've got a bad case of wanderlust."

Now it was Shannon who chuckled, seizing on the obvious opportunity of his last word. "I'll show you wander," she moved her free foot between his legs, "lust," she finished, pressing her foot against him, feeling him respond immediately.

His breath hitched a bit and the hand drawing the razor down her leg trembled slightly, he raised his eyes to hers, the lids half closing as she continued working the sole of her foot against him.

"You cut me and I won't let you shave what I had planned next," she warned.

He grabbed her ankle and quite firmly moved her foot from its position of conquest. "No fucking way that's happening," he told her decisively, pressing his legs a bit painfully together so she couldn't invade his space again.

She hadn't gone for waxing since that first time after she'd come back. When Boone saw how much discomfort she'd been in afterwards, he'd bluntly told her that she was nuts and offered to take over shaving duty for her instead. After his initial effort, and what it had led to, she'd abandoned any idea of ever again enduring the excruciating torture of Spanish Inquisition levels that visits to the salon always resulted in.

They continued discussing her suggested vacation plan as he finished her second leg. "Up," he ordered her; turning to grab an aerosol can off the ledge.

Shannon levered herself regretfully out of the warm embrace of the bath water and sat on the edge of the tub as he moved between her legs. He sat back on his calves and squirted some gel into his hand, then replaced the can. After working the gel into lather, he spread it on her.

She locked her elbows bracing herself on the edge, then leaned back slightly for him.

He slid the metal blades over her carefully, eyes slightly narrowed in concentration; fingers teasing as he stretched the delicate skin one way and then the other. She watched him intently, the rise and fall of his chest increasing in speed as was hers. A bead of perspiration grew on his upper lip that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water in which he was still immersed up to the waist. The fingers of the hand that wasn't holding the razor lost their purchase on her skin more often as her natural lubrication made her slick.

Boone was almost panting when he finally announced, "Done," then put the razor on the ledge, using a damp washcloth to clear away all remaining vestiges of his work.

"Barely even started," Shannon contradicted her voice deep and throaty.

He moaned as he lowered his face to her, one arm sliding around her back, the other bringing his hand to join his mouth in continuing its' work.

When her right elbow gave way almost sending her tumbling to the floor in a move that would have been more characteristic of Boone than Shannon, he decided a change of venue was in order.

He rose to his knees; the obvious state of his own arousal suddenly revealed as his hips cleared the water. They quickly exited the tub and he followed her down as she lay back on the bath mat.

It didn't take long; they were both so close. When her entire body suddenly stilled, her knees spreading even wider, telegraphing that her impending orgasm was going to be even stronger and of longer duration than usual, he gave a few more quick short strokes, then thrust himself full in, now concentrating more on his pleasure than hers. They rode out the waves together, both breathless. When it was over he continued to move gently against her, milking every sensation out of the aftershocks, finally collapsing on top of her.

When rational thought finally returned, he slowly rolled off her, whimpering a bit as this overheated back met the chill of the ceramic tiles.

There was a gentle knocking at the door, "Guys?" Andrew called. He knew exactly what they'd been doing in there and hadn't even contemplated employing telepathy.

"Yeah?" Boone responded as Shannon rolled onto her side to snuggle against him. He frowned a bit at how awkward he felt at her action and their post coital state as he waited for their son to answer.

"I wanted to wait up and see you before going to bed, but you've been in there for over an hour and I'm getting tired, so 'night." Andrews shrugged in disappointment and turned to head to his room.

"Give me five," Boone called, "I'll be there to tuck you in, okay?"

"Sure Boone, I'll just finish the chapter I'm reading." Andrew smiled to himself. There wasn't a struggle over Boone between himself and Shannon as there had been between Sabrina and Shannon, but every now and then he felt a pang of jealousy as he thought to the years he'd had his dad all to himself. He'd come to love his mom too though, her devotion to Boone unmistakeable and going a long way in winning Andrew over. If Boone loved her enough to have been reduced to such drastic action at her departure then Andrew knew she was more than worthy of his love also. He'd formed his own opinion but in the end it mostly came down to the fact that he loved her because Boone did and that was more than enough of an endorsement for him.

After rousing an almost sleeping Shannon, and the two of them quickly showering, and throwing on some clothes, they both went to fulfill his promise to Andrew and kiss him goodnight.

Boone was in his office the next day when Shannon came in with an emergency with which she needed him to deal. It was Saturday, but they had an event that night, so they'd both come in, though the plan was to be there for only a couple of hours. Andrew had been left to his own devices, with strict instructions to check in and out with who ever Joan had running the store that day. It had become their usual Saturday pattern.

"Mark called; the panel truck just broke down." She told him, and gave the location.

"I've already told you that that kid shouldn't be driving it! He revs the shit out of it like it's some 70's Trans Am and drives it like an Indy car. It's only three months old, but he's probably blown the engine. Shit Shan, can't you just listen to me sometimes?" Boone exploded.

She crossed her arms and gave him a look. "If you've finished with your little 'I told you so' tirade, can you please become productive and help with a solution?"

"Bitch," he muttered, then rested his elbow on the table and lowered his chin to his hand, thinking. "Where's the other truck?"

"Almost at the site, they left at least twenty minutes before Mark did." She watched as he stood and strode purposefully to the window that looked out on the employee parking lot. Boone surveyed the space quickly, noting that there was just one vehicle that met his immediate needs.

He turned to her. "I need you to go tell Luce that she's got a new assignment for today. Tell her we need her to take her van to where Mark is and that they need to transfer as much to it as they can. Get one of the guys to help her take the seats out of it before she leaves. And make sure you offer her compensation for the use of her vehicle." He quickly gave her his instructions and then reached for the phone on his desk and turned from her, his free hand rubbing at his head as he continued to formulate a plan. She stood there enjoying watching him in action, as he called the store to confirm that the delivery van was there and available.

He snapped his cell open and hit a speed dial number as he turned and hung up the landline and started moving for the door. "Hey bud, it's me," he started then frowned and stopped short as he registered her continued presence. Telling Andrew to hang on he asked, "Why are you still here? I don't think Lucy has suddenly become psychic and has somehow divined what we need her to do. Get your butt in gear Shan." He pressed the cell to his ear again and continued on his way, leaving her to follow him down the hall to complete her own task.

On his way to his car and on hands free on the way home, he arranged for Andrew and his friend Peter to meet him at the store, called for a tow truck, phoned Mark to advise him of the plan, then took an incoming from Shan to confirm that Lucy was on her way.

He swapped his car for the van and arrived at Marks' location just in time to help finish loading things into Lucy's van. He sent her on her way; then the four of them loaded his own van. The tow truck arrived shortly thereafter and once his van was packed full he headed for the event location with the two boys, leaving Mark to deal with the towing arrangements. He'd been too focused on the immediate situation to deal with the kid, who no doubt thought he was going to get off Scott free, but Boone had the full intention of speaking to him on Monday. The kid was young, early twenties, but that didn't mean that he didn't have to take responsibility for his irresponsibility. Boone knew he wouldn't be doing Mark any favours by letting this slide; it would only reinforce a pattern that could adversely affect the guys' future. And if his future was with CR Catering, then Boone was doing himself a favour as well.

Once at the event and unloaded, Boone, naturally, got sucked into helping and in late afternoon called Shannon to come and pick up the kids. Andrew put up a bit of a fuss, wanting to stay with Boone, but in the end she drove away with both boys, telling Boone, uselessly she knew, not to be late.

She woke in the night, her subconscious rousing her. She'd wanted to roll onto her side and had been trying to pull the covers with her but they wouldn't budge. She blinked away the fog in her head and turned to determine the cause of their impediment. A one hundred and fifty pound dead weight was holding them firmly in place.

Boone was laying fully clothed n top of the bed beside her. She hadn't even heard him come in; he still wasn't home when she'd gone to sleep, unsurprised by his extended absence.

Sighing, Shannon slipped out of bed and around to his side. She didn't even consider trying to wake him, instead just undoing the fastenings on his jeans and working them past his hips and down his legs. She pulled his socks off and then worked him to her side of the bed after pulling the covers fully back. She shook her head, unimpressed at the situation then tucked the blankets up around her sleeping spouse.

She crawled back in, on his side now, and happily wrapped the now freed up covers around herself.

In the morning a sudden movement of the bed, followed by a thud and a muffled curse woke her. She looked over at the empty space beside her and grunted a laugh as his head slowly made an appearance from over the edge of the far side.

"Tell me you didn't just fall out of bed?" Shannon asked in amusement.

"What the fuck am I doing on your side?" He answered with a question, putting his fingers to a sore spot beside his eye.

She started laughing harder, "You fell out of bed!" She pointed at him. "Oh god, this is priceless."

"I must have thought I was on my own side and was rolling into the middle," he defended himself. "I think I hit my head on your night table. Why am I over here?" Boone asked again, still exploring his temple.

Shannon explained about the night before, and then said, "I wish we were still in high school, so I could tell every one about this." She thought with a bit of glee about the embarrassment with which she could have humiliated him.

"If I was thirty-two and still in high school, believe me, there's a lot more reasons than falling out of bed for people to make fun of me." He'd risen from the floor and was sitting on the bed again. He tipped his head toward her so she could check out the place where he'd hit his head.

"Gonna leave a mark, dumbass," was her assessment.

"Gee, thanks for your overwhelming concern. Your worry positively fills me with warmth, I feel so special." He replied sarcastically. "Come on, let's get up and get our shit together. I've got plans for the three of us for the day."


	5. Chapter 5

"Shan?" Andrew got her attention. She'd picked him up at school and was headed for home.

"What?" She slowed for a stop sign, quickly checked to see if there were any vehicles in sight, then accelerated right through it, her speed barely dropping below half the posted limit.

Andrew didn't even notice, let alone comment, he was well used to her driving style and almost total disregard for traffic laws. Still, he would have been surprised to learn that she actually drove far more carefully when he was in the car.

"You think we take Boone too much for granted?" It was something that had been worrying at him for a few days, sparked by a classroom discussion.

Shannon shrugged, "I don't know, maybe a bit I guess, he needs to be needed though."

"Yeah he does, but I'm serious. I think we tend to take too much advantage of him. When was the last time you did something nice for him?" He shifted a bit sideways in his seat, restricted by the seatbelt, so he could watch her.

"I washed the dishes last night," she replied.

"Yeah, I _know_ that," he rolled his eyes, "I did them with you. That's not what I'm talking about though. I mean something nice just for him."

She shook her head, "I don't get it."

"Well," he thought for a second, "how about a foot massage? He stands almost all day."

"Ewww, rub his feet? That's gross, I'm not doing that." She made a face.

"Yeah right, gross, 'cause of course he'd never do the same for you." Boone had done just that the night before as the three of them had enjoyed some quiet family time together sitting in the backyard.

Shannon shot him a look and thought 'smart ass.' "Besides, we put rubber flooring in the kitchen and he wears running shoes all day. I'm in heels; my feet get sore his don't."

"You sure about that? And anyway I'm not talking about him needing a massage, or even him acknowledging that he wants one, I'm talking about doing it for him because it would be nice."

"He'd be suspicious for sure," she protested but he could see that he'd started her thinking, so he pressed on, pointing out instances where they could do nice things for Boone without being obvious about it.

He suggested getting him a refill when they were watching TV, or even getting their own. Currently the second he saw they were in need of a beverage Boone automatically took care of it, a full glass appearing as if by magic. Perhaps brewing his morning tea for him and having it waiting in a travel mug by his car keys and note book could be something they could do.

Shannon got into the spirit of it and made a few suggestions herself. It wasn't like they didn't help around the house. It was all the little things he did for them without them even registering the fact that he was easing their way through life.

As the realization of the scope of Boone's efforts dawned on them both, Andrew commented, "He's a great dad, I've always known just how lucky I am."

"You ever tell him that?" Shannon was privately trying to recall the last time she'd told Boone that she loved him.

"I've tried." His tone clearly indicating that it hadn't been received with the appreciation he'd anticipated. "You know Boone; he doesn't take a compliment well."

That was sadly only too true. Shannon had been reduced to pulling him into a corner of a banquet hall kitchen after a clients' slightly inebriated wife had gushingly enthused about their meal. It was a sentiment that had been echoed by several others within earshot. Boone had blushed in embarrassment and shrugged it off. She'd hurriedly grabbed his arm, thanking them and trying to minimize any damage, simply saying that he was far too modest.

In front of most of his kitchen staff she'd furiously berated him, her hands fisted on her hips, her face inches from his own. At one point she'd smacked him upside the head demanding to know if he had a brain in there.

"You don't tell people who just paid seventy-five dollars a plate that the food was 'okay you guess' and that 'really it was nothing.' They're going to be _so_ inspired to call us back again, aren't they? Not to mention all the other potential clients who overheard you!" That was when she'd hit him, much to the amusement of the group who'd given up any pretence of working and were enjoying the show openly.

Boone hadn't had any defence, knowing she was right. He'd mumbled an apology and then, much to their shock, had extended it to their audience, hoping that his stupidity hadn't cost any of them any money by turning off future business.

The next day Shannon had caught him practicing graciously accepting compliments in front of a mirror.

She turned to Andrew as she pulled the car into the garage. "You should try it again," she suggested. "And we'll try some of those other things too." And I need to tell him I love him, she reminded herself.

They put their plan in motion when he got home that night. Both so caught up in trying to outdo each other, that they failed to realize that Boone was becoming increasingly nervous and jumpy as their random acts of kindness continually bewildered him, setting every fear and flight response he had into code red.

After dinner Andrew prepared two dishes of homemade frozen yogurt and topped them with a chile/strawberry sauce Boone had made as an experiment; none of them had tried it yet and he was eager to. He carried them into the den where Boone had gone to read.

He handed one of dishes to a somewhat startled, but appreciative Boone, and they both spooned some up.

'Hey, this is really good,' Andrew thought as the combination of flavours and textures triggered different taste receptors on his tongue.

Boone smiled a bit hesitantly and nodded. 'Not bad,' he allowed, he'd barely gotten through three pages of the History of the Space Race tome he was currently ploughing through, as his mind kept recapping over and over the events of the evening trying to make sense of them. He could easily have read the thoughts of his family, but he was so fearful of what he might discover that he refrained.

Andrew laughed as he took another bite. 'Only _you_ would think of combining these things.'

Boone shrugged as he continued to eat. 'I don't know abou…'

"You're a really great dad, Boone," Andrew suddenly blurted then privately reprimanded himself, knowing for sure he'd scared his father and sent his suspicion spinning into high gear. He'd already seen a shadow of it play across Boone's face when he'd handed him the bowl. Why couldn't he have worked up to in and slid it into a logical part of the conversation?

Boone took on the appearance of a deer in the headlights, confusion tinged with apprehension apparent. He glanced from the dessert to Andrew and back again, remembering Shannon refilling his tea at dinner. He tried to read Andrew, but met with a block. He put the bowl down blindly on the side table, almost missing it and groped for Shannon with his mind, wanting to understand what was happening, his world off kilter, searching for a way to return it to a stable plane.

She was upstairs in the bathroom, trying to decide whether to paint her nails Pretty in Pink or Rumba Berry. No help there he thought, frowning, as something about it seemed off. Then it hit him, she was thinking about doing it herself, not having _him_ do it for her. He was absolutely certain that something bad was up.

"I'm dying aren't I? Shannon took a blood sample or something while I was sleeping and had it analysed. You guys are being way too nice to me. What's going on here? How long do I have?" Boone completely spun out of control, the absurdly nonsensical explanation the first to pop into his jumbled thoughts.

Andrew had read the lack of comprehension in Boone as soon as he'd delivered his ill-timed attempt at a compliment, but never expected this. He stared at his dad in disbelief, "You're not serious? I'm just trying to tell you that I love you and now you think you're _dying!"_ Andrew snatched up Boone's abandoned bowl and gave him Shannon's furious scowl. "Just forget it!" He stomped from the room muttering under his breath.

Boone was still sitting there trying to figure out what had just happened, when Shannon appeared in the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest. "You know for a smart man, you're awfully stupid sometimes." He looked across the room at her, still at a loss for words.

She pushed off the frame and moved to sit on the end of the couch in the space Andrew had just vacated. Taking his left wrist in her hand she removed the bracelet and studied his tattoo.

"Man is he pissed at you," she said conversationally. "The boy worships the ground you walk on and right now I don't think he'd even speak to you, he's so angry, embarrassed and hurt, well done, brother dear. We're lucky he's not telekinetic as well as empathic, because I think he's mad enough to lift the house right off it's foundation and throw it into the lake."

"You…you guys were being too nice to me. You made a salad without me even having to ask, and then you both shooed me away and did the dishes, then he brought me dessert…" he trailed off as he thought about the other things they'd done for him since he'd gotten home. "I thought you'd discovered I had a fatal illness or something." He pulled his wrist away from her in irritation. "And why are you looking at this?"

"I was trying to figure out if I could get it changed to another woman's name and get a refund on you." She raised her face and he could see that she was almost as angry as she'd just said Andrew was.

The boy had paused in the kitchen long enough to deposit the two bowls loudly on the counter and tell her that it was all her fault because she'd encouraged him to speak to Boone in the first place. Then he'd stormed up stairs, calling Boone several colourful names, some of which even _she'd_ never heard before.

"So he tried to tell you what a great dad you are and you asked if it was because you were dying. I don't know anything about your imminent demise, Boone, but I surely think that he'd gladly kill you right about now. I thought we'd worked out the whole 'graciously accepting a compliment' thing." She told him all about the concern Andrew had voiced in the car earlier and his desire for the two of them to do something about it. "How fucked up is it of you to suspect a stupid thing like your death because we're just trying to do the same things for you that you've always done for us?" He squirmed in the chair as she continued, feeling smaller than even the tiniest Lilliputian when she was done.

"I'm sorry…I just didn't…I mean I….oh god, the poor kid. Jesus I fucked up. I really fucked up badly this time. I'm such a loser, how can he think so highly of me?" All the positive feelings that he'd actually allowed himself over the last month and a half evaporated as quickly as super heated steam. Shannon watched as he fell apart right in front of her, dispersing her anger at him just as quickly. She realized that the fact that he was such a mess was only marginally hidden beneath a thin veneer, ready to resurface the minute anything picked at a corner and compromised the integrity of the tenuously bonded layers.

"Oh Boone," she shook her head sadly. "He loves you, that's how. And he has every right to be proud of you. It's so sad that a person as successful as you are, as loved as you are, has such low self esteem."

His pain filled eyes met hers. "You did grow up in the same house as I did right? You saw my mother in action, or was I just imagining that you were there? And _you_ left me," he added quietly.

"Jesus Christ Boone, you haven't lived with your mother in fifteen years, and _I_ came back to you, didn't I? Can't you work past it?" She asked her exasperation evident.

"It's not that easy, Shan," he said sadly, once again hating himself for sounding so pathetic.

She reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over it. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," she said briskly and stood. "You're going to go and apologize to your son; then we're going to sit down together and have a nice long talk." He'd been doing so well lately she hadn't had to assume her amateur therapist role since their vacation. She held her hand down to him, "Come with Dr. Rutherford, Boone." She jested, thinking that it was time to put some of her newly acquired knowledge to good use. She still hadn't told him about the book.

He took it and rose. "Sorry for all the trouble I cause."

"Are you rehearsing your lines for when you talk to Andrew?" She shot over her shoulder as she led him from the room.

She told him that once he apologized to Andrew, he was to meet her out in the back yard, and then watched as he ascended the stairs.

Twenty minutes later, after having successfully pled for forgiveness, Boone headed back down to the kitchen and sent her a message that he was just going to get drinks for them both, and then be right out.

When she informed him that she'd already taken care of that, he paused on his path to the fridge, almost feeling useless, his emotions confusing and disorienting, still on a roller coaster. He joined her outside, looking a bit oddly at the plastic tumbler of iced tea beside his chair, having a hard time believing it got there without his intervention.

The conversation lasted a couple of hours as Shannon drew him out. Long pauses punctuating the periods of silent exchange as he struggled to confirm the truth of his words before sharing them with her. She held his hand, then his body when he eventually broke down.

Leading Boone upstairs and putting him to bed, she was astounded yet again by the depth of her love for him and his trust in her. He'd bared his soul to her without restraint and she'd embraced his very core. They had no need for physical intimacy that night; he'd already been naked to her on a much deeper level. Shannon kissed his forehead tenderly as he almost instantly fell asleep, drained and exhausted, then she went back outside to be alone with her thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

Boone was restless when Shannon came to bed, moaning and muttering uncharacteristically in his sleep. She gently gathered him into her arms, his body melting loosely into her embrace without resistance, fitting against her like a key into a lock. His furrowed brow smoothed and he sighed in contentment as his hand slid up to cup her breast.

'I love you,' she sent to him, he sighed again and nestled into her even deeper as she glided her hand up the smoothness of his back and surrendered herself to the soothing balm of sleep.

Shannon wasn't surprised at awakening alone the next morning. Boone had a truly amazing capacity for processing information in his sleep, his mind seemingly shifting into overdrive as his body renewed itself. He'd no doubt dissected their talk of the previous night, as well as Andrews' plan and wanted to discuss it with them. Probably unable to sleep as he anxiously awaited their rising, he'd chosen to get up rather than risk waking her early with his fidgeting.

She was crossing the hall after her shower, a towel wrapped loosely around her when Andrew opened the door of his bedroom and emerged into the hall, washed, brushed and dressed for the day.

"Morning, Shan," he smiled in greeting.

"Hey, how'd you sleep?" They exchanged the usual morning pleasantries.

He sniffed the air, "Boone's making a Sunday breakfast?" It was only Wednesday.

"I think he wants to talk to us," Shannon opined.

"Oh," was his only comment as she continued into the bedroom, dropping the towel on the floor as she reached the dresser. She'd pulled on some underwear and was just about to select a bra when she heard her name from the doorway.

"I thought you went downstairs," she said over her shoulder as she donned her final undergarment.

"I wanted to talk to you first," Andrew said, crossing to the bed and sitting.

"Shoot," she opened the closet and reached for a blouse, then changed her mind and picked a different one, figuring that she might as well take advantage of his presence.

"You think Boone wants to talk us out of our plan?" Andrew asked, his mother advancing on him, as she slid the article of clothing on.

So, she thought in amusement, suddenly it's _our_ plan, "Probably." Shannon stood with her back to him, holding her hair out of the way, so he could do up the row of buttons that ran up the back of her top. She always had a bitch of a time fastening them herself.

"That's what _I_ guessed too," his nimble fingers made short work of the task.

She went back to the closet, pulling the rest of her intended attire for the day from it and continued dressing.

"I'm not going to back down," he said, "And I'd kind of like your support."

"Combined front, eh?" She zipped her skirt and draped her suit coat over her arm, reaching down for her shoes. Shannon eyed the pumps distastefully, marvelling as she recalled her pre-crash obsession with high heels.

"Yeah, I think it'd be easier not to give in to him that way," Andrew hopped off the bed and got her brush and hair pins from the top of the dresser. She'd mentioned the night before that she wanted Boone to do her hair for her.

Shannon had finally entered an arena where her looks were a detriment instead of an asset. She'd discovered that a tall leggy blonde with model echelon beauty was unfortunately often not taken seriously in the business world. There was northing she could do about most of her appearance and so, in an effort to combat stereotyping, had purchased a very conservative wardrobe and usually wore her hair up, especially when meeting with male clients.

"Okay, I'm in," she spit in her palm and held her hand out for him to shake. Once he did the same she said, "Let's go see what Machiavellian plot Boone's devised."

The plot consisted of French toast, their favourite. Thick slabs of homemade bread soaked in an orange juice, egg and cinnamon mixture, grilled to a golden brown. Shannon's was topped with a sliced strawberry fanned out decoratively and Andrew's with a star fruit. Boone's own plate was garnished with green seedless grapes, his own personal weakness.

He let them fork up a couple of mouthfuls; then set to work tying to persuade them to abandon what he'd come to view as their "Mission Boone" plan. He was foiled, however, as even his best wasn't enough when met with the level of dogged determination his family displayed. In the end a compromise was reached wherein they'd work him up to it slowly, limiting themselves to just one or two random acts of kindness a day, and increasing their frequency gradually. He still didn't look completely convinced, but didn't have much choice in the matter as they refused to budge.

Once Boone had done up her hair for her, Shannon gave him a kiss when she was ready to leave, Andrew in tow. "I'll see you for lunch in your office at one."

"What?" he frowned in consternation, they didn't usually meet for lunch and he was sure she hadn't said anything.

Andrew had told her that he didn't think Boone was eating properly again and had suggested she start dining with him mid day to make sure that he did.

"Honestly, Boone, it's in your notebook!" She sighed in mock frustration.

"It is?" He picked it up and flipped to the last page, then concealed a bit of a smile. There, appearing directly below an entry he'd just made that morning, and in _her_ almost illegible scribble, was a note about their luncheon appointment. He adopted a contrite tone of voice, "Sorry Shan, I must have gapped it."

Feigning total innocence she replied, "Please Boone, perk up and pay attention, I won't _always_ be around to remind you of these things." She'd written it when he'd briefly left to go to the bathroom during the meal. "And don't be late, you're bringing the food."

"Why am I not surprised?" They shared a smile at their foolishness then he sent them on their way, remaining behind to do the dishes. Shannon was dropping Andrew off at school.

He was setting up lunch at the small round table near the window, his back to the door when she entered his office. "I made one plate for both of us, I hope that's okay, I figured we'd share."

"I have no objection to sharing _with_ you Boone. I'd only have an objection to sharing _you._" She told him, flippantly. "What are we having?"

"Whole wheat wrap stuffed with chicken and grilled veggies, ancho chile mayonnaise. You had a craving," he smiled knowingly over his shoulder at her, he'd sussed her out before making the meal, "and salad."

She found her mouth watering, thinking that sometimes there was a decided advantage to having a telepathic spouse.

They ate in silence for a bit; then Shannon decided to come clean.

"I bought a book," she told him.

She purchased novels frequently, usually the latest fluff, so Boone figured there had to be something more significant about _this_ particular book than that it was the latest Danielle Steele.

He put his fork down and waited.

"Jack got me the title as a recommendation from a colleague," she didn't want to meet his eyes. He still waited, dreading what was coming next.

"It's about male depression," she finally admitted.

"Oh," the single syllable was spoken in a small voice, his shoulders sagging.

She'd expected the reaction and experienced a rush of regret at reawakening his melancholy, especially so soon after his meltdown of the previous night, "Please don't feel bad Boone," she entreated. "I…I wanted you to know, and I just needed to understand. You won't see anyone, so I'm it and I wanted to be better equipped to help you."

"Sorry, Shan," he apologized, exactly what for, she wasn't sure.

She forged ahead anyway. "Some of the stuff I read really scared me, and it said you could suffer from this for the rest of your life."

"You want to bail on me? Is that what you're working up to? Though I guess I can't really blame you if you want to leave me again." He immediately expected the worst.

"You're such a dumbass," she chided gently. "No, I'm in it for the long haul, Boone."

His lips twitched in an approximation of a smile and he met her eyes for the first time since she'd told him about the book, "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Boone," she grinned a much more genuine smile than his. "You want to read the book? I'm finished it."

"You think I haven't already read every book out there? I was looking for answers too Shan, _and_ help. You can't possibly think I want to be like this, but I don't have any more choice in the matter than a diabetic has about his condition. I just do the best I can." He shrugged. "You tell Andrew about any of the stuff that scared you?" He looked at her in concern.

"I don't think I have to Boone, he's a bright boy, he has the internet and the library, I'm sure he already knows all I do and more," she told him gently.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. You want to talk about what you read?" he asked hesitantly. All he wanted to do was avoid the subject, but knew that wouldn't be the right choice for either of them.

"If we could?" Shannon asked hopefully and rose to close the door when he nodded in grudging acceptance.

They talked for the rest of the hour, Shannon urging him from time to time to finish his lunch. Once he was discussing symptoms and side effects in general and not himself specifically, he became more confident, his attitude improving.

When Margie tapped on the door and then opened it at their invitation to tell Shannon that her appointment had arrived, he was almost back to himself, though not quite.

Once the girl had left Shannon circled around the table and kissed him, "Go make food, Boone," she ordered.

"You really mean 'happy the fuck up' don't you?" He pulled her into his lap and kissed her more deeply, careful not to muss her hair and have to redo his handiwork.

"Well…you certainly are happier when you're around food." She raised her eyebrow at the small bit of lunch that he'd yet to finish, "though it's a chore to get you to eat it sometimes."

He popped the last bit of his wrap into his mouth. "Satisfied?" he asked after chewing and swallowing.

"Very." She kissed him again and left for her meeting, pausing briefly at the door long enough to advise him that their lunch date was going to be a permanent fixture from then on, then she was gone in a flick of blue gabardine.

"Yes dear," he called after her with a suffering sigh, knowing better than to protest.


	7. Chapter 7

Irene hadn't seen Shannon in more than seven years, since before the girl had left the subsequently devastated Boone. She still wondered at the wisdom of the man at taking her back, and the seemingly limitless scope of his ability to forgive. It had been the fodder for office gossip for weeks after her return, as had so much about their truly bizarrely incident plagued lives.

She recalled the girl as she'd last seen her; windblown hair from a day at the beach, dressed in a tank top and shorts, the string of her bathing suit top visible and knotted at the back of her neck, a healthy glow on her face. They'd stopped by the office to drop something off for Sabrina, Shannon accompanying an adoring Boone, their equally adorable toddler snuggled protectively in his arms.

The polished and professional woman who swept into the office, offering an apology at keeping them waiting was about as far removed from the Shannon of her memory as a person could get. It left her speechless and gawping.

Reaching her guests, Shannon smiled. "Irene, it's such a pleasure to see you again." When the woman continued to stare at her blankly, Shannon frowned then reached around her, extending her hand to the other two who were present, "Shannon Rutherford."

The older man shook it, "Frank Jackson, and this is my daughter, Alicia." He nodded at the brunette to his left. Shannon guessed her age at slightly older than Boone and smiled warmly as the woman shook her hand as well.

Irene had managed to slough off her bemusement during the introductions. "Sorry Shannon, you're just a lot different than I remember."

"That's understandable," she dismissed the apology. "That was a lot of years and a _lot_ of experiences ago."

She circled around to take her seat behind the desk, she'd cleared a bit of its clutter in preparation for the meeting, but it was still liberally littered with a kaleidoscope of coloured files and folders. She noted that Margie had already provided her three visitors with a company folder each, as well as providing their beverages of choice. She uncapped the bottle of water that had been left for her and took a sip.

Boone had recently decided that she was consuming too much coffee and had instructed Margie to replace the addictive caffeinated drink with water. Shannon had at first bristled at his interference, then relented when she realized that he only had her best interests at heart. She'd even begrudgingly acknowledged that she was feeling far less edgy and quick to take offence since his decree, though with Shannon it was hard to tell, her level of snark was always set to max.

"So," she started the meeting with a quick overview of the company, and then moved on to Boones' food philosophy. She made it very clear that he wouldn't compromise on his ethics and that if they had a problem with that, then CR Catering wasn't the company for them. She'd learned the hard way that he was completely unswerving on his principles when she'd told a client that _of course_ he'd make them a roast beef dinner. It had been almost two days before he'd even spoken to her again. She'd had to crawl back to the customer, her tail between her legs, and refuse the contract.

"And he shops for the main ingredients the morning of the event," she continued. "He'll only buy what he thinks is the freshest, so if you were expecting Sole Florentine, you might just end up with Orange Roughy on a bed of Swiss Chard instead. And forget about the standard cream sauce, though I assure you what he's come up with as an alternative will blow you away."

"We've actually _had_ his food," Alicia interjected. "We were at Bob London's retirement party with my mother and fiancée." Shannon looked interested and wondered what he'd served at that one. Alicia went on to provide the answer. "He made salmon with blood orange and ginger, it was amazing. And the sides and appetizers, all of it, it was delicious. None of us could believe it was actually all good for us too. What a refreshing change from roast chicken, mystery meat and mixed veg." Shannon imagined Boone thundering away from the horror of mystery meat like the proverbial elephant suddenly finding himself in a close encounter with a mouse. "That's when I decided who was going to cater my wedding."

Frank nodded in agreement and stole another glance at the pictures on Shannon's credenza. She'd noticed the man looking at the photos of her guys several times during the meeting and wondered about it. She wouldn't have found it odd if it had been Alicia, after all both of them were, in her opinion, drop dead gorgeous, or at least Boone already was and there was no doubt that Andrew would be too. But to have it be the man who was so obviously fascinated by them was a trifle unsettling.

Alicia went on with her own particular request for an entrée. It was something Boone had made for them at home, so she quickly agreed and added it to the notes she'd already accumulated in the folder that Margie had neatly labelled 'Jackson/Bolton.'

The meeting concluded shortly thereafter. Shannon advised Irene that Margie already knew to have someone follow her out to her car with a case of their company's folders. She'd received the woman's e-mail request for a supply of them for Carlyle Enterprises when they'd confirmed that day's appointment.

Standing and shaking each ones' hand in turn, Shannon assured them yet again that they made the right choice and ushered them to the door, bidding them goodbye and turning them over to Margie.

She'd gone to the rear of her office to stare at the pictures of her family that had so interested Mr. Jackson, and pulled the pins out of her hair, fluffing it slightly, stepping out of the wretched shoes at the same time.

"Ms. Rutherford?" There was a gentle knocking from the open door accompanying the sound of her name.

"Mr. Jackson," she hurriedly put her shoes back on, there was nothing she could do about her hair. "I thought you left, excuse me," she said turning.

Frank was stricken by how much more beautiful, feminine and younger she looked with her hair loose and tumbled about her shoulders. She was truly a fitting match for the good looking man he'd met briefly several years prior.

"Soon," he answered. "I wanted to speak to you, so your receptionist volunteered to take the ladies on a tour."

Shannon had asked them if they wanted one earlier, but they'd declined.

"I persuaded them to go." He finished.

Shannon made a metal note to give the girl a nice raise at her three month review. She'd turned out to be the treasure that Boone had been certain she'd be and far more. "I'm sure they'll find it interesting." She commented and waited to see what he wanted.

"I wondered if Mr. Carlyle was available. I'd like to renew my acquaintance."

"You know Boone?" That must have been why he'd been looking at the photos she realized.

"Yes, I met him several years ago, briefly, at your mother…"

"Step-mother," she cut in, a bit rudely she belatedly considered and then realized what other information she'd just divulged.

He smiled and chuckled a bit. "I was actually going to say mother-in-laws." Not reacting to her slip at all, surprisingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just a little touchy about it, mother-in-law, huh? I've never thought of Sabrina that way, but I guess you're right," she conceded and wondered why he didn't seem shocked.

"It must be odd, being married to your step-brother," was his only comment. He'd actually looked into Boone's background after meeting the uniquely gifted man and his even more gifted son. He was not only aware of the odd relationship between the man and his spouse, but had also received periodic updates on him, including the news of the establishment of CR Catering. It had been one of the reasons he'd convinced Alicia to delay her wedding reception a week so that they would accept the contract.

Shannon's eyes narrowed a bit. "From your reaction, or more correctly lack thereof, you already knew about Boone and me then?"

"As I said, I've met him before." While it was true, it wasn't why he knew.

Shannon found it a little odd that it was something Boone would introduce into a casual conversation with a man who had just admitted that they'd only met in passing, but let it go. "Well, we've only ever been married to each other, so I guess we don't know any different, though the reactions we get can pretty much cover the spectrum."

"Yes, I'm sure they can. So he's not available then?" Frank asked again, his eyes widening in astonishment as Shannon appeared to lose a little focus, he felt a slight buzz in his head.

"No he's not, I'm sorry." She slipped her mind quickly over Boone's and confirmed that he was in fact in his kitchen and completely gripped in the thrall of his creative process. She smiled a bit at the feeling of his all consuming contentment and shook her head at Frank.

"Well, then. I'd like to invite you for dinner in that case." How the hell is she psychic too, he was wondering? He'd assumed Andrew had inherited his ability from his father, but this woman was in no way blood related to Boone at all. He resolved that they'd definitely accept his dinner invitation.

Shannon smiled, but started shaking her head 'no' almost immediately. "That's very kind of you, but I'm afraid that Boone's a real home body. He already spends so much time away from our son because of the business as it is, and he's very particular about his food." And there was no way he'd drive two hours just for dinner, Shannon thought, assuming he was inviting them to his home in the city.

"I meant for you to bring Andrew too, of course." Frank assured her.

"You know Andrew also?"

"I met him the same night I met Boone. And as for his food, I have his guidelines right here." He held up the folder he still gripped in his right hand. "I'm sure my cook can prepare something that would meet with his approval."

"I don't know, I'd have to check with him, but…" Shannon continued to try and bow out graciously.

Frank had a sudden realization, "You wouldn't have to drive to L.A. for dinner. I'm sorry, I should have clarified. We're staying here at the county house until the wedding. It would also give you a chance to take a look at where we're holding the reception."

"You're very persuasive," Shannon considered for a second. "I'll ask him, but I can't give you an answer right now, and I have to check his schedule too. Can I get back to you on it after I speak to him?"

He gave her a business card, telling her to call his cell. Thanking her, and mentioning meaningfully that he looked forward to her favourable response he left.

After work, his duties in the kitchen concluded for the day, Boone flopped down in the guest chair across from her desk as had become his usual practice and tipped his head back, closing his eyes.

"Hey Baby, did you beat the ferocious man-eating cauliflower into submission?" She kidded.

"It was actually fennel, and it sure put up a valiant fight, but I managed to make it succumb in the end." He smiled widely, enjoying the jest. He loved verbally sparring with her.

He peeled the sweat bands off his wrists and stuffed them in his right pants' pocket, then lifted his hips so he could pull his bracelet out of his left. She'd tried to get him to wear a chef's coat in the kitchen, but he'd refused, preferring to wear something from his considerable collection of short sleeved tees instead. He felt like the fashion or culinary police would show up and call him out for the impostor he still considered himself to be if he wore the more traditional long sleeved cotton coat he didn't think he'd earned the right to, though she _had_ brow beaten him into wearing one when he represented the company at an event. He'd come up with the idea of the sweat bands still being understandably self conscious, not so much about the tattoo, but more about the scars. He spent a lot of time with the rapt attention of his kitchen staff focused on his hands as he demonstrated different dishes and presentations.

Boone rolled his head to the right. Andrew's abandoned schoolbooks were scattered over the surface of the small meeting table that was similar to his own in size, but just as different in style as the rest of the furniture, situated in front of the window.

"Where's number one son?" He asked. Shannon had picked the boy up at school at four and brought him back to the office, she still had a bit of work to complete.

"Number one? You have more than one? You told me you hadn't had sex with anyone but me since we got married, so I guess you just revealed a deep dark secret from your _wild_ teen years." She figured the wildest Boone ever got in his teens was probably skipping last period to watch a National Geographic special on the Bantu.

"Damn, you found me out." Boone said with a tone of regret.

Shannon laughed, "He found a tennis ball in his back pack and said something about playing wall ball out in the parking lot." Boone raised his head off the back of the chair, his mouth starting to form a question. "Yes Boone! I checked to make sure he'd finished his homework. He's got a short chapter to read for English, but he's going to do that outside after dinner." They both knew that Andrew was just as conscientious as Boone had been about his studies, so she figured it was just a knee jerk, general parental urge on Boone's part to ask.

Searching for something in the mess on her desk, she noticed Frank's business card, propped up against the screen of her laptop. Picking it up, she told him about the meeting, and more specifically about the after meeting discussion she'd had with Frank.

"He said he met Andrew and me?" frowning as he tried to place the name and attach a face to it, "Doesn't found familiar." He leaned forward and took the small rectangle of cardboard from her outstretched hand, staring at it intently as if the simple act of focusing on the slightly raised black lettering would retrieve the information from his memory. He shook his head after a few seconds, and handed the card back.

"Maybe Andrew would remember him?" she suggested.

"If it was several years ago, he was just a kid," Sometimes they both forgot, given the level of his maturity, the fact that the boy still _was_ a child. "I seriously doubt that he would."

She shrugged, he was probably right. "So his dinner invitation, I told him I'd have to check with you."

Boone looked a little hesitant. She'd sensed something different about the man, and really wanted them to go. Just as she was about to employ the same persuasive arguments as Frank had with her, he shrugged and, much to her amazement, agreed.

"I'm curious I guess." He read her surprise and addressed it.

When she asked him when he wanted to set the date for, he reminded her that their schedule was even more available to her than to him at that moment and pointed at her laptop. As he crossed the room to gather Andrews' stuff, she pulled the device towards her and brought up the data base with their calendar that every one in the company had read only access to, and to which a few had full rights. It made it so much simpler that way for every one, Margie and Kevin could update the schedules, as could Shannon and Boone, and they all knew instantly what anyone was booked in to do at any time.

Watching him leave the room, Andrew's backpack over one shoulder on his way to corral their kid and head home, she found an available evening and reached for her desk phone, contacting Frank on his cell as he had requested. He greeted the news of their acceptance with enthusiasm.

By the time Boone put her dinner down in front of her she'd forgotten all about asking Andrew if he remembered Frank Jackson.

They sat in the back yard after dinner. Boone made up a fruit tray with a couple of different dipping sauces and they munched and nibbled as they all read into the twilight.

After Andrew went to bed, Shannon tired of her book and stuck her ear buds in, turning her music on low as she reclined in the lounge chair. A few tunes in, her favourite slow song inspired her.

Asking Boone if he'd dance with her, she pulled him to his feet and gave him one of the tiny speakers. He stuck it in his ear and pulled her close, their cheeks pressed together, restricted by the short cord that connected the left to the right. She slid her arms sensuously over his shoulders, and moved sinuously against him, his hands kneading the small of her back. Pulling her head back slightly, her lips hungrily quested for his and found them easily, the kiss driving them to grind against each other.

Clothes were shed quickly, the PMD tossed aside to provide faint background music as a soundtrack to their passion.


	8. Chapter 8

Boone was seated at his desk, auditing a docket for a graduation party when he became aware of someone standing in the entrance to his office. He looked up just as his visitor reached out to knock on the open door.

"Hey! Terry," His enthusiastic greeting was returned in kind. Boone frowned a bit, "You're not scheduled to work tonight, are you?" The last two words came out in an uncertain tone.

Terry shook his head, "No. Actually, I came to see you, if you've got a few minutes. Hey, Andrew," The boy was sitting at the small meeting table over by the window, assembling more company folders. While he spent a lot of time with his friends, he was also something of a permanent fixture at the office as well. He liked being useful, like his dad, and also the company of adults.

"Yeah, sure thing," Boone closed the window on his laptop and waited in curiosity as Terry took a seat in one of his guest chairs.

The kid looked a bit unsure how to start. "I've been thinking, actually more than just thinking, I've done a bunch of research, some inquiries," he rambled on a bit then looked up at Boone. "I really _like_ the cooking thing."

Terry was Boone's favourite assistant; he loved working with the teen. It was almost as if the kid was just as psychic as Shannon. It seemed as if every time Boone needed something, Terry put it in his hand just as he was about to request it. Boone had had a general sense, back at Christmas when he'd first started Terry off in his kitchen, that they'd work well together and, once again, his innate ability to read people hadn't failed him. Terry was a natural in the kitchen and a great sous chef, Boone had no doubt the guy would make an excellent head chef one day, if that was the career path he chose.

"You're good at it." Boone commented, sincerely.

"Thanks. Glad you think so; because I've decided it's what I want to do, as a career I mean." Boone smiled as the guy echoed what he'd just been thinking himself. "I would never have even considered it if you hadn't seen something in me and given me a chance. I owe you, big time." Terry shared the direction he'd envisioned for this future. "Hard to believe that this time last year my entire repertoire consisted of KD and toast. Now when I'm home I do all the cooking. Mom thinks she's died and gone to heaven."

Boone was floored that he'd influenced the kid so profoundly. "That's great." He realized how lame that sounded. "I mean, whoa thanks. I'm…that's great." He repeated, unable to come up with anything better, still a bit flustered. "So, tell me your plans."

This was Terry's last year of high school, but he was far too late to apply for a scholarship for the coming fall, and being awarded a subsidy was the only way he could possibly afford to go to college. The school he'd approached had some openings still available for the fall semester as well as residence spaces, but all scholarships and subsidies had already been awarded. His parents could contribute some funds and, so far, residence was the least expensive housing solution he'd found. His uncle owned a grocery store near the campus of the school he'd selected, and had promised to give him as many hours of part time work as he could, but it would still be tight.

"Kevin already agreed to write me a letter of recommendation and I wanted to ask if you'd write me one too. It'd really help when I apply for scholarships and admittance for next year."

"Sure, of course," Boone agreed immediately. "But I don't know how much weight it would carry; I'm not a _real_ chef like Kevin."

"That's not what he says." Terry contradicted. "He really talks you up when you're not around. And even if _you_ don't think so, I know the board would, so thanks again."

Boone considered Kevin to be a technically excellent chef, as least as far as he could tell, but he was unfortunately very pedantic. He just didn't seem to have the creativity or ability to think outside the box that Boone did. Boone thought that maybe it was because of Kevin's years of professional training. He'd been taught certain methods, blends of ingredients and recipes and had become conditioned to a set of rules. Boone, of course, had no such preconceptions and was limited only by his own imagination and natural talent. On more careful consideration though, he thought that it was probably more that it was Kevin's natural inclination, given that he figured most professional chefs were undoubtedly creative.

As a glimmer of an idea sparked in Boones' head, a slight smirk lifted a corner of Andrews' lips over at the table. He'd put his work to one side when the conversation had started, openly eavesdropping, and had been waiting for his dad to come up with the more obvious and immediate solution to Terry's problem. Though they didn't live ostentatiously and Boone had always made his son earn his allowance, the boy nonetheless, knew that they were very, very wealthy.

"So you've figured out a plan?" Boone asked, while he mulled his idea over.

Terry reached down into his messenger bag and pulled out a folder. "I've done my best. I showed this to my dad and went over it with my economics teacher." He handed the documents to Boone.

There was an admissions package and several scholarship applications tucked into the left side of the folder, the right side was filled with notes and calculations. Boone looked them over while the kid waited. Terry had factored in his own estimated savings by this time next year, the amount of the scholarship he hoped to secure, his parents' contribution and his own on going earnings. Boone was impressed that he'd even thought to consider a contingency fund.

"So you figure your grades are good enough to get in?" He quickly ran a few numbers in his head while he listened.

"Yeah, they've always been good, but this last semester, they've been even better. I guess working with you just inspired me to do my best with everything." Terry looked a bit embarrassed at the admission.

Boone got a bit flustered again at the scope of the impact he'd obviously had on the guy. "And they have openings for this fall?"

Terry nodded.

"And available rooms in residence?" Boone continued.

Terry was starting to wonder why Boone was rehashing things he'd already told him. It was pointless anyway he wasn't going till _next_ year.

Boone committed to memory a couple of figures from Terry's notes and handed the folder across the desk. "It sounds great! And you've certainly done your research. You'll do really well, no question." He picked up a piece of paper on his desk and frowned at it. "I can't believe she didn't pay this." He muttered as if viewing an unpaid bill. It was, in fact, a spam fax from a cleaning company; he was just using it as a diversionary tactic for what he was about to do next. He reached down into his bag and pulled out a small leather folder, enjoying himself immensely.

"I hope so. I hope it all works out. I've been saving my wages since I started with you and got the idea. And I'll have all the money from working here full time this summer, too." They'd already discussed it and Boone had assured the boy full time employment through until the end of August. "I was _hoping_ that I could stay on in September?"

"Oh, Jeeze Terry, I'm sorry." Boone shook his head as he started writing. Andrew grinned widely and even giggled a bit, Boone shot him a warning look but there was a mischievous glint in his eye as he did it. "We won't have any full time openings."

"Oh…oh well…" The kid was crestfallen, it made Boone feel a little bad that he was playing him, but knew that it would only be for a minute longer. "I _guess_ I can always work for my dad at the gas station," he said, like he'd just resigned himself to a year of exhuming corpses.

"No, I don't think the gas station's going to be an option either." Boone's casual tone continued.

"Huh?" Terry's confusion was evident.

"No, I think you'll be too busy working at your uncle's grocery store." He snapped the cheque out of his chequebook and held it out between his index and middle fingers. Andrew snorted once then covered his mouth with both hands, in an attempt to hold in his laughter.

Instinct urged Terry forward to take the slip of paper. His eyes widened as he realized what he held. "No, no, no way. I didn't come here for this. No way, Boone, I can't take this. I only wanted a letter."

"Too bad, you've got it now, and I'm not taking it back." Boone told him calmly. "Though I should warn you, you now belong to me. Every school holiday, anytime you come home, you're here. Consider yourself the modern equivalent of an indentured servant." He finished smugly.

Terry realized that there was no changing the man's mind, knowing Boone well enough to realize that he wouldn't be swayed. He gave into the inevitable and jumped from the chair, rounding Boone's desk and pulling the smaller man into a hug, clapping him on the back and almost lifting him off his feet, his enthusiastic gratitude causing Boone to blush furiously.

Terry put him down and returned to the front of the desk, continuing to mutter his thanks. "Oh man, holy shit, fuck! Wait till my folks find out." Terry suddenly realized what he'd just said. "Oh, man, I'm sorry." He looked frantically between Boone and Andrew.

"Relax it's nothing Andrew hasn't heard before and completely understandable given the circumstances." Boone dismissed his outburst, "Just don't make a habit of it," he warned with a chuckle.

Terry looked at the cheque again like it was a gift from the gods, then his face clouded, "Uh, what about Shannon?"

"What _about_ Shannon?" Boone didn't understand the question.

"I mean, you didn't, like, ask her first before you gave this to me. Won't you get in trouble?" Shannon's ire was legendary.

Andrew snorted laughter again.

Terry looked at the boy as Andrew lost control of his mirth and started laughing openly, causing the older boy to follow suit.

Boone glanced between them looking unimpressed at the implication of their laughter at Terry's warning. "I case you didn't notice, one of us is _not_ laughing here."

They just laughed harder, Boone finally joining in.

When he told Shannon a little hesitantly at dinner, she just chided him for being such a pushover, she thought just as highly of Terry as he did. Heaving a sigh of relief, he considered that it really could have gone far worse for him. He grabbed his notebook and jotted down a reminder to call his lawyer to set the monies up in a scholarship fund, thinking of naming it after Shan's dad, knowing that would make her happy. Given the tax advantages, he'd already envisioned it as an annual award.

Grateful that he wasn't in the shit, he snuggled her close when they went to bed.

Sometime in the night, Boone awoke to the feel of her fingers tips describing little whorls on the sensitive skin at the inside of the top of his left thigh, and drew a shaky breath. The slight indication that he had awoken was what she'd been waiting for. Her hand moved between his legs to cup him, gently playing with the two small orbs as he spread his knees further apart granting her easier access.

His heart hammering in his chest, Boone managed to ask in a whisper, "What are you doing up?" His mind such a jumbled mess at the state he'd found his body in when he woke up that he didn't want to let her into his head.

Shannon lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled slyly, "On the contrary, brother dear, I think it's you who's up."

"I won't dignify that pathetic attempt at humour with a laugh." He pressed himself into her touch. "What are you doing awake then?"

"I had a wet dream." She slid her hand up and grasped him.

Boone's back arched. "Women have those?"

"It's not unheard of, though that was my first." She admitted as she ran her palm up and down.

"What was it about?" He tried to focus on the conversation as his body moved in response to her ministrations.

"A little girl on girl action," Shannon kissed across his collarbone, licking and nipping.

"Not me then." A whimper escaped his lips.

"You're very, very pretty Boone, but you have certain equipment that kind of eliminates the possibility that you're a girl." She continued to tease, both with her words, and her hand.

'Tell me about your dream.' He gave up on trying to vocalize his words as he gasped.

She slid on top of him, and guided him into her; then leaned down and started whispering; knowing her warm breath against his skin would drive him crazier than just forming her words inside his head. She chose not to share the residual montage of pictures that still lingered in her memory from the dream, this way he could let his imagination run amok as he created his own visual images to go along with her murmurs. As her hips rocked against his, she described her dream in detail, adding a few embellishments, her lips brushing his ear, her tongue and teeth teasing now and again at the secret pleasure centre of his ear lobe.

When they finished, and Shannon had wrung every ounce of strength out of him that he had, all Boone wanted to do was fall back to sleep, but there was still one more question that he had. As she slid back to her regular place at his side, nestled under the comfort of his arm, he asked, 'So, have you ever _really_ done that?'

'Yeah, I've gone all the way with a girl. Not quite as wanton as in my dream, but you know me I'll try anything once.' She snuggled into him. Knowing that he wanted more than just a confirmation, Shannon continued. 'High School, senior year, with Cindy,' She named the other participant overly casually and waited for his reaction.

"Cindy?" Boone said, a little louder than he'd intended.

She nodded, enjoying the perplexed feeling he was exuding; she loved putting him on the spot.

He squeezed his brows together, looking disturbed. '_I've_ had sex with Cindy too.'

'I know, she told me. She said you were really good, and once I had you too I certainly had to agree. She was pretty good herself. Though,' she mused, 'I've actually got nothing to compare it to.'

'Oh god, this is really too much. We've both had sex with the same person, could we possibly _get_ any weirder?' He posed the question rhetorically, but Shannon chose to answer it anyway.

'Yeah, if it had been the same guy,' She offered in amusement.

Boone pulled the pillow off her side of the bed and pretended to smother her with it for a second in mock indignation. After putting it back in place, he ran his hand down her arm. 'Maybe next time you have a dream like that, you could dream I'm there so I can watch,' he suggested in jest.

'Actually, when I woke up, I looked at you and you had a bit of a smile on your face, I thought maybe you _had_ dreamt my dream with me.' Shannon kidded him, though it wasn't impossible, they'd certainly shared dreams, and nightmares, many times.

Boone shook his head slightly, playing along. 'Believe me if I'd shared _that_ particular dream with you, I _sure_ as hell would have remembered it when you woke me.' Of that he had no doubt whatsoever.


	9. Chapter 9

Even though Boone's car was worth just under two-hundred-thousand dollars he felt like he'd just shown up at a Ferrari owners' gathering in a Kia, the open garage door of a huge hanger like building just to the right of the main structure revealed a staggering array of vintage and grossly expensive automobiles. The home itself brought to mind the fabled Tara of Gone with the Wind fame, though he thought that this place was quite possibly even grander.

He looked down at the blue grey of his sweater, topped by a buttery soft black leather blazer that Shannon had surprised him with on a whim, dark wash jeans and freshly polished (thank god) motorcycle boots and felt decidedly underdressed. Shannon fared a little better in his estimation in a beaded turquoise halter-top and flippy short denim skirt. He'd winced when he'd seen the three-hundred dollar receipt for it, but couldn't deny the hot liquid feeling he'd gotten in the pit of his stomach when she'd modelled it for him. At least her flat, strappy Bass sandals had been a more modest price. She firmly eschewed high heels in her personal time. Andrew had, in the current fashion trend, dressed exceedingly yuppie, something that amused Boone greatly. He had on beige khakis, a white oxford button down and Doc Martens.

As Boone pulled the car to a halt, Andrew perked up in the back seat, opening the car door the second the vehicle came to a full stop.

"You didn't tell me it was Frank, Boone." He had the door open and was crossing the interlocking brick of the huge esplanade fronting the house before Boone even switched off the ignition.

"Wouldn't remember the guy, eh asswipe?" Shannon commented as they got out of the car, thinking of his dismissal of her supposition after they'd received the invitation.

Boone shrugged easily, "Guess I was wrong."

The door opened just as Andrew reached it, "Frank!" he greeted happily.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, Andrew quickly becoming aware that Frank already knew their secret, just as he'd guessed Frank's years before. By the time that Boone and Shannon gained the sprawling deck of the enormous wrap around porch he was already fully engaged in a one-way verbal exchange.

"What the fuck is he doing?" she grabbed Boone by the upper arm and spun him to face her, alarmed by Andrew's behaviour.

"He knows, about us I mean," Boone told her, recalling the guy as soon as he saw him, remembering the short conversation on Sabrina's patio after the Thanksgiving dinner over five years previously.

"And just how the fuck did that happen? He said he'd only met you briefly. What'd you do, walk around with a sandwich board on while I was gone?" She demanded.

"Shan, come on, it's just one guy, don't exaggerate." Boone protested.

Frank and Andrew had stopped talking and were watching them now.

"And, besides, how do you know it wasn't something Andrew did and not me?" Boone asked.

"Because he's smarter than you are, and smooth move bonehead, blaming it on a kid." She sneered.

Frank spoke up at that point, a particularly brave move Andrew thought, though the guy didn't know how sharp Shannon's claws could be. "Actually it _was_ something Andrew said."

"Was I talking to you? Please excuse me. I thought I was talking to my idiot brother." She was in full rant mode now, not caring that she was speaking to a client. She dismissed him and turned back to Boone, though from her next words, she'd heard what Frank had said. "So the kid said something that gave him away. Great parenting skills you've got there loser, you couldn't even teach him to keep his ability a secret?"

Boone's shoulders slumped in defeat, even when he wasn't wrong, somehow he still was. He couldn't resist getting in one more shot however. "You're one to question my parenting skills, seeing as you left me to raise him all by myself."

Andrew figured it had gone far enough at that point. Thinking it was about to get ugly, he stopped them. "Guys, we're guests here, you really want to do this?"

They glared at each other one more time then both shook their heads reluctantly.

'Fuckhead,' she shot at him silently.

'Bitch,' he responded.

Seeing that Shannon had run out of steam, Frank took a chance that it was okay for him to speak this time, and properly greeted each one of them. "I'm a tiny bit gifted myself," he explained the reason he knew their secret, "but nothing anywhere near Boone and Andrew, or yourself," he added, "…from what I saw you display at your office."

When her eyes widened in astonishment, he explained that he'd gotten a sense of her using her talent when she'd verified that Boone was in his kitchen during their meeting in her office.

Boone opened his mouth, intending on making an 'in your face' comment to her, and then prudently reconsidering when she shot him a look clearly daring him to try it.

Andrew pushed himself off the doorframe, where he'd been lounging since they'd started fighting, and then Frank led them into the living room, closing the front door before leaving the foyer.

The trio were an instant hit with the identically numbered amount of people in the cavernous, yet somehow welcoming room. Alicia took one look at Boone and all but started drooling. Shannon's seemingly endless dancers' legs had Todd, Alicia's fiancé, a bit google eyed and Rene, Franks' wife, a hopeful but still unrewarded grandmother, became completely smitten with Andrew. Much to his embarrassment she pinched his cheek and kissed him soundly, ruffling his mop of blonde hair roughly. Boone rescued him from further humiliation by reaching out and grabbing his shoulder, pulling the boy back against his legs. That the typically grandmotherly reaction was something that his son had never experienced left Boone more than a little sorry for the kid, and a little for himself as well. He reflected again that Sabrina certainly deserved the 'Ice Queen' nickname with which Shannon had awarded her.

They sat and a member of the household staff took their drink order, returning quickly with the beverages and a large platter of hors d'oeuvres. Andrew checked with his dad and, after Boone scoped out the selection, received permission, leaning forward eagerly to fill a plate with a selection of the offerings. He was going through a growth spurt and was constantly famished. Noticing how good everything looked Shannon helped herself to a few things as well.

The conversation inevitably turned to the upcoming nuptials, so Frank offered to show them the back yard. The three of them followed the man through the house, the others electing to remain behind. The manicured and landscaped expanse that was revealed once an elaborate pair of French doors was thrown open could only marginally qualify as a 'back yard,' Shannon was reminded of the one time she'd viewed the grounds at Versailles during her stint in France.

An outdoor kitchen set-up of three stainless steel gas barbecues, several fridges, double sink and work counters drew Boone in like a magnet. He ran his hand covetously over each of the shining silver hoods in turn, opening the last.

"These are magnificent." He commented, while acknowledging to himself regretfully that it would be overkill for his own back yard.

"You're certainly welcome to use them the day of the reception." Frank advised him.

Still holding the lid of the grille half open, Boone turned to Shannon, "Any idea what I'm making that day?"

"Paella," she was surveying the gorgeous pool area, then flinched as she pictured Boone getting too close to the water and stumbling into it, in his usual clumsy fashion. She was already getting mad at him for ruining his new leather coat, though she'd only just imagined the accident; he actually hadn't done anything…yet.

The lid shut with a loud clang, "What?" He demanded, an edge to his voice.

"Paella," she repeated, frowning at him, not understanding his obvious distress. He'd made it for them at home several times, the fact of which she now reminded him.

The fight started immediately as Boone strode angrily across the brick patio that separated him from his wife.

'They'll be at it for a while,' Andrew advised Frank, drawing him off to one side.

"They do this a lot?" Frank watched the two impossibly pretty people alternately yell and gesture silently at one another, both clearly furious.

'No, usually they either do it all out loud, or all in their heads, depending on whether we're alone or not. I guess they're mixing it up because they're confused, what with you knowing about us and all.' Andrew indulged himself by continuing the conversation in the same fashion as he had at the front door on learning of Frank's awareness of their ability.

Frank chuckled at the boy's misunderstanding of his question. "No, I mean fight." He found it highly amusing and unusual that, in under an hour, the pair had argued twice while out at a social engagement in the home of a virtual stranger and business client as well.

'All the time,' Andrew told him offhandedly, with a bit of an eye roll. 'If they weren't fighting, I'd think that someone had snuck duplicates in. They've been fighting since they were kids; I guess it just comes naturally.' Frank's non-reaction to Shannon's earlier comment about Boone being her brother had clearly indicated that he knew about their multi-layered relationship.

"You seem not only remarkably unaffected by it, but much, much older than you obviously are." Frank observed, amused by the boy's taciturn acceptance of his parent's bickering.

'I'm used to it, and they _do_ love each other though.' He was a bit insulted on his parents' behalf and stood up for them, wondering how this guy got off judging them when he didn't even know them. 'And I'll be _ten_ in a couple of weeks,' Andrew told his age a bit indignantly, moving into double digits a source of pride to him.

Frank remembered having to delay the wedding date and put two and two together, "June 23rd?"

'No, the 21st,' Andrew corrected, 'but we're having the party on the 23rd, we're going to an indoor/outdoor gaming park.' His enthusiasm overriding his momentary pique, he bounced a little up and down in excitement, clearly no more than just an anticipatory nine year old suddenly. "There's rock climbing and a go-kart track, and…and…lots more," he enthused, eyes flashing. "Boone said I could try everything I wanted." He shot an adoring glance at his dad, who, just then, had his index finger shaking scant inches from Shannon's nose. He told Frank about several of the other attractions excitedly.

"Sounds like fun." Frank commented, chuckling a bit at both Andrew and the still arguing couple. Andrew nodded.

"So, I'm curious." He said casually. "I though you'd inherited your talent from your father, but your mother has it too and she's not blood related to him at all. How did all this happen?"

Andrew told him about the plane crash.

"Lots of people are in plane crashes and don't end up telepathic," Frank observed.

Andrew tried to explain about the island. He'd only been three months old at the time of rescue but oddly could picture the place like he'd actually lived there for the entire year they'd been stranded and at times could feel its' life blood running through his veins like a syrupy fire. "I can't explain why, none of us can, but it's why we're like we are." He glanced at his parents; they were kissing. "They're done," he announced, glad to get a reprieve from that particular topic of conversation.

Frank looked up to see Boone pulling away from Shannon, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone, a loving smile on each of their faces. They were the most mercurial people he'd ever met, he decided. He resolved to rekindle the discussion about this mysterious island at the first opportunity.

"So, is Alicia going to get her paella?" Frank asked.

Boone looked a little sheepish, "Yeah, she is. I just…I get a little freaked out every time Shannon agrees to have me make something different. Though I should be used to it by now, seeing as it's one of the signatures of the company." They'd discussed different hooks before they'd started the business, thinking that they wanted to do a little something extra to attract customers, and had decided to consider all special requests, while still honouring his unique focus. "I've got lots of other great ideas to go along with it, too." He was starting to look a bit antsy, and kept glancing at the open French doors.

Shannon could tell that he was just dying to get his thoughts down on paper as soon as possible. "Well then I guess we better get back inside so you can scribble your brilliance down before your brain reaches its' maximum storage capacity. You think you can manage to walk and remember everything at the same time?"

Frank quickly led them back inside before yet another fight sparked. He figured if he went inside right now and looked up snarky in the dictionary, he wouldn't have been the slightest bit surprised to see a picture of Shannon Rutherford.


	10. Chapter 10

Back in the living room Shannon voiced all the appropriate compliments about their rear landscape as Boone fished in their canvas bag for his notebook. The most recent in a long line of all purpose catchalls, the green fabric sack contained the essentials for all three of them. He pulled the black, hard covered, composition book out and detached the Mont Blanc from the spine, opening the tome to the first available blank page he started writing furiously.

After about five minutes, the distraction of the idle conversation annoying him and disturbing his concentration, he stood and wandered out of the room.

Shannon watched his departure with an amused expression, then, noticing the puzzled looks on the others' faces, apologized for him. "I'm sorry; he doesn't mean to be rude. Believe me, if you knew Boone, you'd know he'd be horrified if you thought he was being rude. It's just…" she stopped to consider for a moment. "Since we started the company it's like he's suddenly tapped into the wealth of ideas that have been stockpiling in his head for the past thirty-two years, just waiting for him." In fact it was like someone had given him the key to the secret garden of his imagination and he couldn't get enough of the heady scent of the blooms that grew within. "When we were kids, he never played cars or GI Joes or anything; it was all school and sports," she hated her step mother all over again as she relayed this. "The only creative outlets he was allowed were essays and school projects." She shrugged remembering his senior year in high school fondly, "I made him take dance lessons once, but even _that_ he reduced to an analysis of patterns and progressions. I think he might have even written a paper on it," she laughed bitterly. "So it's really exciting to see him like this. Sometimes I wake up at night and he's sitting hunched by the window writing in his book by moon light." Her thoughts turned inward and a private smile graced her lips, Andrew unconsciously mirroring her look. The two remained like that for a few seconds, lost in their shared love for Boone. "Sorry," she shook it off, "I don't mean to make him sound like such a weirdo."

They all assured her that she hadn't. "Hey, if he's writing down ideas for our wedding reception, he can be gone the whole evening if he wants." Alicia added.

Shannon reached for another shrimp, then realized that there were only two used plates on the table; hers' and Andrews', Boone hadn't taken anything. They'd been doing a lot better at getting him to eat properly and his moods had evened out quite a bit in response to their careful monitoring, but she knew he'd only grabbed a few crackers and some chicken at lunch in anticipation of their evening. She took another plate and carefully selected some items she was sure he couldn't resist. Frank watched with interest as she handed the plate to Andrew without instruction, silent or otherwise, and he rose, grabbing a napkin and Boone's water glass before leaving the room.

He found his dad just on the other side of the wall, sitting on the stairs that lead to the upper floor, writing industriously.

"Boone?" He attempted. Getting no reaction he tried again, 'Boone?'

At the silent entreaty his head raised and he smiled. "Hey."

Andrew held out the plate and glass. Boone took them and put them down at his side immediately, "Thanks."

Andrew stood and watched for a few seconds, waiting for him to eat or drink, when he didn't, returning instead to scribbling in his book, Andrew spoke up. "Shannon said you're to eat everything on that plate," he lied, though it wasn't much of a stretch, he knew full well she would have.

Boone's head jerked up, "Oh." He put his pen down and took something off the plate and popped it into his mouth, then started searching for something, frowning slightly.

Andrew clued in and pulled the napkin out of his pocket and handed it over.

Boone took it, smiling, "Thanks," he repeated, wiping his fingers then reaching for the glass and taking a sip. His eyes had already returned to his penned words as he went to put the glass back down.

Andrew watched anxiously, ready to step forward and rescue the vessel should Boone place it precariously near the front of the tread, know how devastated his dad would be if the container tumbled down the steps and broke on the marble floor of the foyer. To his relief, Boone set it down well back on the tread, close to the riser.

Confident that Boone was gong to follow the instruction he'd implied came from Shannon, he returned to the ongoing chit-chat in the living room.

Twenty minutes after Boone's departure, Shannon suddenly became aware of just how much she was longing for his return, she didn't like that she was missing him to the degree that she was, but couldn't deny it. They worked together, but the different nature of their two roles in the business actually kept them apart from each other even more than when they'd had the store, so they cherished every moment of the reduced number of hours they spent in each others' company fervently, the limitations increasing the intensity of their interaction. Even the time spent arguing was relished, in their own obscure fashion. Sometimes she felt like they were a pair of old souls, destined to be together for eternity, this incarnation just the most recent in a long progression of different lives spent together. Feeling his absence like a physical ache, not bearing to be apart from him for a moment longer, she stood abruptly, "Your bathroom? I need to use your bathroom."

Receiving directions from Frank and getting an unimpressed and knowing raised eyebrow and accompanying eye roll from Andrew, she shot her son a disdainful glare and left the room.

Boone was still sitting on the steps, the plate empty and a page and a half of notes freshly written.

"Boone?" He looked up immediately, the urgency in her tone unmistakeable.

"What?" His eyes narrowed, she was up to something, he thought.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she informed him.

"Ooookay…" He figured she was old enough to do that on her own.

"Come with me." Shannon held her hand out.

"I'm not getting involved in some girl style gang pee!" He refused.

"No's not an option, Boone. I said come with me." She repeated more forcefully.

Heaving a beleaguered sigh, he took her hand and rose, collecting his plate and glass from their position on the steps, not wanting some poor unsuspecting person to stumble over them if they wanted to use the stairs. He put them, along with his notebook, on the hall table, careful to put the glass on the plate so it wouldn't leave a ring, and allowed himself to be led further into the house.

Finding the powder room easily from the directions she'd been given, Shannon pushed him inside then closed the door, turning to face into the room, fumbling behind her back to engage the lock.

Boone took one look at her face and instantly knew exactly what she had planned.

Eyes wide in astonishment, though really he should have been used to her outrageous behaviour by now, he protested. "No, no, no fucking way. No Shannon."

She kept herself between Boone and the door to prevent him from bolting, "Oh yes, Boone." She gave him a seductive look and then pushed him up against the far wall.

As she searched his face, her eyes glazed with want and need, lips parted, he felt his resolve weakening, though he realized the absolute insanity of what was inevitably going to happen. "No," he repeated a little weakly, voice cracking. "This is the home of a client, we can't…"

"We're here as guests, Boone, so I'd say it's more the home of a friend."

Her left hand crept into to his hair while the feel of her breath on his neck electrified him. When her tongue played at his ear lobe and her lips drew it in he was all but lost. With her right hand she reached under her short skirt and tugged her underwear down, sending the scrap of fabric to the floor and stepping out of them.

He made one last futile attempt and pushed her away. She noted with satisfaction that his face was flushed, his breathing fast, he swallowed quickly a few times. "All right, so a friend," his brain ground to a halt as she lifted the hem of the front of the skirt, giving him a unobstructed view, then slipped up to sit on the edge of the vanity. "Uhhhh," he stared, his eyes hooded, his mouth hanging open a bit.

She reached out and hooked his belt, jerking him to stand between her legs, and quickly sent his jeans and boxers to pool around his ankles. She kissed him, deeply, passionately, their first kiss since entering the small room and grasped him by the hips, attempting to pull him into her. Boone, however, had other ideas.

The variety of sex that he enjoyed never failed to amaze and amuse Shannon. There was never anything outrageously kinky, or the slightest bit frightening in what he wanted to try, but she'd always imagined him as a strictly missionary position, lights off, blankets pulled up kind of lover, he just seemed so straight laced, conservative and buttoned down. Her preconception couldn't have been farther from the truth. That she was now the beneficiary of his unabashed inventiveness and lack of inhibition delighted her.

He yanked her from her perch and spun her, hooking his left arm completely under her hips, he lifted her, sliding unerringly into her waiting warmth. He accomplished the entire motion so smoothly and quickly that it was done before she barely even had time to register that she was moving. She gasped as the suddenness of it, noting the surprised look in her eyes as she was faced with their reflection in the full sized mirror mounted over the sink. She'd already braced herself on her forearms, instinctively, when he'd elevated her feet from contact with the floor. Feeling him moving inside her, she dropped her head, stopping just short of braining herself on the faucet. He stopped all motion immediately.

"Watch," he demanded his voice tight and strangled.

Her head came up as her eyes took in their image again, he resumed his thrusts.

From Shannon's angle they were both fully dressed, the fact that they were both naked from the waist down hidden by her elevated shoulders, heightening the erotic nature of the experience. Only Boone, if he looked down, could see the truth of the state of their undress, but he didn't lower his head or even his gaze, his eyes remained locked with hers. He slid his free hand around to touch her.

At the contact she was swept away by the sensation and dipped her head again. Once more Boone ceased moving.

'I told you to watch,' his unspoken words echoed in her head, as he opened his mind to her, sharing his overwhelming arousal and the degree of self control he was exerting over his body at his forced stillness.

She raised her eyes again in obedience and in response he immediately resumed.

They finished quickly after that, their strangled cries muffled as well as they could manage.

"You're a fucking lunatic, you know that right?" Boone stated when he could. Reaching for some tissues from the box on the toilet tank, he pressed them against her as he withdrew, wanting to minimize the mess.

"You love it though," she shifted her hand over his, taking the sodden mass as he stepped back to pull up his pants. "Remember just why you love me Boone. I live life on the edge, while you meander up the middle. Every now and then I pull you to the precipice and give you a look into the chasm. It reminds you that you're alive."

The look he gave her reinforced the truth in her words, though her little speech left him wondering if she'd been trapped in some doctors office waiting room somewhere, no choice in literature except a wealth of Readers Digest "Increase Your Word Power" articles. The vocabulary she'd used was a little more flowery than usual.

She went to throw the wad of paper in her hand into the garbage but he stopped her.

"Are you nuts? Someone could find that!" She figured the chance of someone rooting around in the trash was pretty slim, but didn't protest as he took it from her and put it in the toilet instead. He flushed it, then watched carefully to be sure that the unit didn't plug and over flow, just trying to imagine what explanation he could possibly concoct in that eventuality.

Shannon retrieved her underwear from the far corner as he fogged the bathroom with enough air freshener to rival a dispersal of Agent Orange.

She coughed and batted at the sickly sweet cloud. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't want it to smell like sex in here," he kept his finger on the nozzle.

She snatched it from his hand. "Right….so now it smells like someone fucked in a gardenia patch. Christ you're a moron."

"It's probably not going to make a difference anyway. They'll _see_ the guilt on our faces," Boone muttered. When Shannon quirked an eyebrow and laughed, "Okay then just on _my_ face," he added, rolling his eyes.

As she opened the door, he grasped her hand and dragged her to several of the adjacent rooms in quick succession, pausing briefly in each to sweep his eyes over the interior. Seeming satisfied, of what she didn't know, he led them back to the front foyer, retrieving his earlier abandoned items from the hall table.


	11. Chapter 11

Andrew had engaged in his own form of fun in their absence. He was as much Shannon's son as Boone's and delighted in the same kind of mischief that she did.

"So your parents knew each other when they were kids?" Alicia asked recalling Shannon's comment, unsure how to carry on a conversation with a ten year old kid. Not having any applicable experience she broke the silence as his parents, quite oddly she considered, left him alone to fend for himself in a room full of, except for her father, unfamiliar adults.

Being the confident individual that he was, he wasn't the slightest bit cowed by the situation and quickly trotted out his favourite, the incest ploy. "Yeah, they did, really well in fact," he started. "Boone's actually my uncle as well as my dad."

"What?" Three of the four exclaimed.

"Well he's Shan's brother, so I guess he's my uncle and she's my aunt _and_ my mom." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if what he was saying was the most normal thing in the world.

Warming to his subject, he played it to the hilt, glancing now and again at Frank, wondering how long the guy was going to allow him to continue the charade. It had all gone downhill from there, or uphill, depending on the point of view. Andrew was reaching the summit of Mount McKinley in his giddy estimation when Frank burst his bubble.

"You're quite obviously enjoying yourself _way_ too much for this to be the first time you've done this." He commented casually.

Andrew smirked and raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly.

"You want to tell them the whole story now, before Rene expires in a fit of apoplexy?" His wife had become increasingly horrified while Andrew had embellished outrageously on the truth of his parent's relationship.

As he reluctantly followed Frank's instruction, much to the relief of the others, the two subjects of his conversation returned after their extended absence.

The first thing Boone did was open his notebook and extend it to Alicia, explaining that he'd made some notes about her reception and requesting that she read them over.

Andrew took in the self satisfied look on Shannon's face and the guilty one on Boone's and knew his intuition about his mother's intentions when she'd left the room earlier hadn't been wrong.

Frank was getting a decidedly odd vibe off them as well and wondered what they'd been up to. He was just starting to suspect the truth when Boone's next words dispelled it.

"Sorry we were gone so long, I was writing the notes; then we were snooping a bit. The panelling in the library is fantastic."

At that Shannon clued in on the reason for his whirlwind tour of the rear of the house and chimed in with the details she'd registered as well.

As they sat, Andrew frowned and leaned in, sniffing at Boone. "Why do you smell weird?"

"Boone had to use the bathroom on the way back. Thank god you had a full can of air freshener." Her quick mind automatically came up with an explanation that would embarrass him the most.

Bone flushed bright red in response and gave her a pleading look.

Andrew listened in on the conversation for a bit then lost interest, not really thinking that he had any ongoing obligation having been left to hold his own while they'd been off amusing themselves. He found his focus instead turning to the wall of built in and fully stocked book cases to the right of the bay window.

An avid reader, a trait he shared with Boone as well as Sawyer, much to their mutual respect on the numerous occasions when the man came to visit, he rose and wandered over to run his eyes across the titles on the exposed spines. He found his interest returning again and again to a most unlikely choice, and reached out a hand to pluck it from its' resting place. Considering at the last minute that he really should ask for permission, he silently requested it from Frank and gave him a glance. When he received a slight nod in response, he retrieved his intended prey.

He didn't know why this particular publication had drawn his interest with such insistence, but he'd learned to trust his inner voice implicitly. He thought the unerring direction he received from it must have something to do with his gift. He knew that Jack had also been bestowed with an ability to know exactly the right thing to do, along with his other abilities, and figured he must have received a measure of the same, himself.

He opened the glossy pages and quickly became captivated by the photographs of the lush landscapes, panoramic vistas and stately domiciles. This was a place he definitely wanted to see first hand. He flipped to the front of the book and was rewarded with a large scale map of his own home state, pinpointing the location of the site of the pictures as just several hours drive north of their current location.

"Hey Boone?" He called over his shoulder. At the summons his dad rose and crossed to stand behind him, his hands resting on Andrews' shoulders as he leaned over to look at the book.

'I'd really like to go here,' Andrew told him and then paged again to the front showing him the map. "A bike holiday!" he blurted suddenly, seizing on an idea. His eyes widened in pleasure, with an excited smile, he flashed his perfect teeth.

"I think you just lost your white water rafting adventure." Boone commented to Shannon.

The focus of the room shifted to the two standing in the corner.

"What?" she asked.

"The boy's got another idea. I think you'll like it." Boone smiled.

Wondering what the child had come across, Frank beckoned him over, as Boone returned to his seat, smirking.

Taking the book, Frank laughed in amusement and shared the content with his wife, who chuckled as well. Turning to a specific page he pointed at the name of the owner of the property pictured; it was his own.

"Yours?" Andrew's eyes gleamed with excited surprise, thinking that perhaps this was why he'd been drawn to that particular book.

"Yep," he confirmed. He'd bought the winery in the Napa Valley years before, caught up in a sentimental urge. He'd proposed to Rene while the two of them had been wandering through it's lushness in his first love: a cherry red convertible Mustang.

Vacation plans for the three Carlyle's for a week in the summer were quickly discussed. A hammer down bike trip up, a relaxing stay at Franks' Napa estate, which he and Rene would fly up for and a leisurely two day ride back, replaced the wet and wild interlude Shannon had suggested.

Always looking for a way to make his time productive, Boone added that they could sample a selection of the local wines, with the intention of setting up accounts for the business, providing them with some direct supplier sources. Frank, of course interjecting that he hoped his own vintages would be considered as well.

Dinner was announced shortly thereafter and they all headed into the dining room. Boone automatically pulled Shannon's chair out for her, causing Rene to give Frank an annoyed glance initiated by the younger man's courtesy, and waited impatiently by her seat for her husband to do the same.

The meal was excellent, and the conversation lively, even Todd, who had remained mostly mute in the living room, participated, especially when the subject turned to Frank's stable of exotic cars.

Not immune to the typical guy fascination with powerful vehicles, Boone enthusiastically endorsed the offer of a guided tour of the private collection, of which they'd only gotten an enticing glimpse when they'd arrived.

When the predominantly male dominated topic of cars petered out, the women took over, turning once again to Alicia's wedding.

They were going to be married on site; a minister had been secured for the day to perform the ceremony by the pool, which was going to be followed by the reception in the back yard. Alicia had reviewed Boone's notes and thought that he'd gotten the relaxed air she'd planned for the day down perfectly. Sangria, terra cotta serving dishes, a rustic tapas buffet with over fifteen suggested nibblers as well as neatly penned notes for ingredients meeting his standards for her paella had all met with a smile from her. He must be a mind reader, she'd reflected. And, while unknown to her he was, hers was a mind that wasn't open to him. He'd just been in the business long enough, first with his mother, and now with his own company, to be able to get a feel for a bride's vision without too many errors in judgement.

The discussion sparked Boone's imagination further, and his thoughts turned inward, an idea for a salmon and blood orange ceviche swirling through his brain.

"May I have Boones' book, please?" Shannon asked Alicia with a bit of a chuckle.

"Sure," she shrugged, "but why?"

"Because he's about to ask you for it himself," she glanced again at Boone. Even without the ESP she could almost hear this thought processes working.

Alicia handed the book to Shannon just as Boones' head came up, his eyes flashing in excitement. He opened his mouth to speak at the same time as Shan reached in front of Andrew and put the book in his hand. He took it with a quick nod of acknowledgement to her and opened it, pulling the pen from the spine, furiously starting to write in it.

The conversation continued around him.

Frank watched him closely, amused when he put the pen down and reached out blindly for his water glass, not raising his head as he reread his notes.

Andrew caught the movement in his peripheral vision and moved the glass into the spot Boones' fingers were closing around, no where near where the glass had actually been.

Frank speculated on the type of man who inspired such fierce love and care from the two exceptionally independent people he knew Shannon and Andrew were. He remembered a five-year old Andrew, who, without hesitation, and alone, had boldly approached a total stranger ten times his age to start a conversation. He could tell from the boys' actions tonight that his impression all those years ago hadn't been wrong.

Shannon's personality had come shinning through in their business meeting earlier in the week and her self assured confidence had only been reinforced by her manner this evening.

Boone Carlyle must truly be a most remarkable man he thought. He didn't know the half of it.

"How long have you been married?" Alicia asked Shannon.

"Too long," Boone muttered, the timing of him completing writing his last reminder coinciding with the question. His mouth working before his mind had time to think, he flinched a bit away from her, but with Andrew seated between them at the long table, Shannon didn't have the reach to be able to smack him on the head.

"It was nine years last November." She shot him a nasty look over Andrew's head.

"You must have had a huge gala wedding." Alicia commented.

"No, actually it was anything but." Shannon laughed at her assumption. "Why would you think that?" They'd never even considered a traditional wedding with all the hoopla, the irony of that hadn't been lost on either one of them though. She remembered the simple pink shift she'd worn the day of their official marriage and his plain black suit. They'd both been garbed in elaborate wedding gear many times for the photo shoots that Sabrina had cajoled them into, but when it came to the actual event, something they would never have foreseen in a million years actually occurring, that just hadn't been a consideration. So many of their pre-crash friends and family had thought their new relationship, and a five month old Andrew, just too difficult to wrap their heads around, they'd only invited a handful of people to share in the day.

"Well, seeing as Boone is Sabrina Carlyle's son and her being in the wedding business, I just thought that it would have been. Why wasn't it?" She looked puzzled.

Boone and she exchanged glances. There were so many answers to that question Shannon didn't know which one to offer. "Things between us are…" She didn't want to say complicated, though they certainly were that, so she settled for "different."

"Why?" Alicia persisted.

Shannon looked at him again, she suddenly wanted to touch him so badly, the thoughts, feelings and memories racing through her head. Boone at ten, shyly meeting her for the first time, Boone at fifteen, his made up face inches from her own, his desire clear, Boone at twenty, flying back to LA for her father's funeral, Boone at twenty-two, his slack, dead face terrifying her. He was out of his seat in an instant, many of the same memories overwhelming him. He stood behind her, his hands solid and reassuring on her shoulders. Andrew regarded them both with concern.

"We've just been through a lot together." Boone lightly explained away their angst filled lives, the tears welling in his eyes giving the clear message that she should seriously consider dropping this.

Even with his limited ability Frank could feel their pain, and quickly called for desert and coffee.

Once the tour of the automobile packed garage was concluded they bid farewell to the Jackson's and Todd, climbed back in their own car and headed home.


	12. Chapter 12

The following two weeks were sent from hell, they were sure.

It started with Kevin calling in sick, then continued when whatever he had also infected three more members of his team. The remaining kitchen staff was reassigned and ended up spread pretty thin, and Boone even thinner. It wasn't just that he was now the sole chef in the kitchen, but also that he had to attend every single function at which actual on-site cooking took place. He was praying that nothing would befall any one else, because he really didn't know what he would do in that case. Terry even cut classes for a few days as the week drew to a close, something Boone definitely didn't approve of. He backed off when the kid told him he'd discussed the entire situation with his teachers and had been given grudging approval, providing he didn't fall behind with his assignments. Their willingness to let him help out was augmented by the fact that Terry had filled his favourite professors in about his accelerated future plans, and Boone's hand in them. If his mentor needed his assistance this badly, then they couldn't really see themselves denying the newly designated philanthropist a bit of the kids' time.

Lucy was positive she was going to see a grown man cry when one of them dropped an entire tray of seafood lasagne while removing it from the oven. But Boone just closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, bracing himself on his shaking forearms, fighting to compose himself. True to his nature, while the horrified girl babbled frantic apologies, he reassured her that everything was going to be okay, he wasn't mad; then he set her to making a replacement, assigning someone else to clean up the mess, knowing she'd feel better if she contributed to the solution.

At the beginning of the second week, Karma reared its' ugly head again and kicked them firmly in the ass once more.

The three staff members reported back to work, but when nine o'clock turned into ten o'clock and there was no Kevin, Boone started to panic. The call finally came at eleven, and the news was bad enough that Margie actually came to fetch him, wanting him to take the call in his office, personally.

A shattered sounding Kevin informed his boss that his aunt had died, completely unexpectedly, a stroke claiming her without warning. He had to go back east, and wouldn't be to work that week at all. Any thought of the impact this news was going to have on him didn't even enter Boone's head as he expressed his most heartfelt condolences. As he passed by Margie's desk he gave her a slip of paper with the woman's name on it, instructing her to find out the details, and make a donation in the name of the company, and another from himself, Shannon and Andrew.

Stumbling into Shannon's office, he collapsed onto her couch in exhaustion, as the full repercussions hit him, and told her about the call. Margie had already relayed to her that Kevin was on the phone with Boone, and it didn't sound good, but she didn't know the full details. Shannon sat beside him and rubbed his back, lines of worry creasing her forehead. He'd worked the previous two weekends and was on day twelve of uninterrupted toil. They were back to full staff, so that was going to make things considerably easier, but unfortunately they were fully booked for every night, with two events on Friday. She wasn't sure how he was going to manage that one, but had faith in him, as always, that he'd make things right.

That night he didn't even make it home. On arriving at the office in the early morning, she found him curled up on the extended sofa bed in her office, still fully dressed in his clothes from the night before, including his shoes. She removed them gently, though knowing that the chances of waking him were slim; then softly closed the door, wanting to leave him sleeping as long as she possibly could. She was seriously starting to become concerned about his mental state as well, knowing that fatigue could exacerbate his chronic condition and send him pelting pell mell into a full fledged depression, though they were kind of out of options.

He groggily meandered into his office about a half an hour later, looking a little glassy eyed and bewildered as he surveyed the litter of crap that she'd strewn about his desk top as she'd made herself at home in his Spartan work space.

"Tea?" His request was one word only; it seemed to be all that he could manage as he shuffled past her and into the bathroom. She heard the shower start up a few seconds later, and buzzed Margie on the intercom, requesting a tray of his favourite hot beverage and some food for his breakfast.

He emerged a little later, dressed in the change of clothes she'd brought from home and laid out for him on the counter, looking a hell of a lot better. Boone fell on the food and drink, wolfing them down with abandon. She kissed him goodbye as she left for a round of client meetings, a satisfied smile on her face at the sight of his empty plate. At least he was eating, she thought.

It was mid afternoon when the next catastrophe struck.

One of the girls was opening cans of Italian plum tomatoes, intended for the mole sauce Boone was making for a Mexican inspired meal. She was on her third can and had the serrated edges of the lid in her fingers, intending to fold it in half, as she had all the others. This time though, the sharply jagged metal sliced cleanly through her thumb and first two fingers. Her shock was so complete, that even with his back turned to her, Boones heightened senses picked up on it immediately.

He turned instantly, and sized up the situation. The blood was flowing in a most alarming rate from her damaged hand. He heard a thump as, quite stereotypically, the burliest guy on his kitchen staff slumped to the floor in a faint at the sight of the blood.

With a practised flick of his wrist, he sent his knife to become imbedded point first in his cutting board; then turned to the girl. He grabbed the fingers of the injured hand in both of his and squeezed his fingers around them firmly, thanking Jack and Sun most thoroughly for the first aid training they'd given him during his convalescence. Ordering someone to go and fetch the first aid kit he turned back to the girl, and brought her hand up to cradle it against his chest. She was staring at the blood seeping through his fingers in horror.

"You think I'm good looking?" Boone asked conversationally. "Cause, I mean, I've been told that I am. I don't see it, but what do you think?"

He received the desired effect as her eyes came up to his face, ceasing their terrified staring at her injury as she bled on his shirt.

He kept her focus redirected, chatting a bit uncomfortably about his looks as he successfully performed first aid with the supplies in the provided kit. Finishing his rudimentary patch job by securing her right wrist high up on her left shoulder, well above her heart, he sent her on her way to the hospital, getting another employee to drive her. During the procedure someone had managed to wake fainting beauty up, and had him sitting on a chair with his head between his knees. Seeing that all appeared to be under control, Boone gave them all a set of instructions, put Lucy in charge, and left to clean himself up.

He gave Margie a shake of his head as he passed her desk, clearing wondering what was next. Unbeknownst to him, he wasn't going to have to wait long to find out.

Flipping the light switch in his office bathroom, the room illuminated briefly; then with a slight pop plunged back into darkness. Cursing loudly, he crossed to the vanity knowing that was where the supply of replacement bulbs was kept and fished around in the cabinet. There was enough light coming in through the open door to the outer office that he could see dimly. Not being tall enough to reach the light fixture and not wanting to drag in one of his guest chairs to stand on, even Boone wasn't enough of a doofus to stand on his rolling desk chair, he clambered up to kneel on the vanity and changed out the spent bulb. Light restored, he slid backwards off the counter.

Unfortunately on the way down, the cupboard door handle snagged up under the cuff of his right pant leg, but the speed of his decent and gravity didn't give him the opportunity to free it. He tumbled to the floor, his left ankle twisted painfully underneath him, his right leg still hanging suspended from the I-shaped handle.

For a moment he just lay on the floor, frustration, embarrassment and anger with himself overcoming him briefly, before he sorted out his jumble of limbs and struggled to his feet. When he tried to put his weight on his left foot however, pain shot up his leg and he almost fell again. The string of epithets started out quietly and grew in volume as Boone got wound up, some of the words he used would have made a sailor blush. Down the corridor at her desk, Margie could only hear a muffled and lengthy bellow. Thinking that he was just frustrated with the situation and not hurt, though given his track record she probably should have know better, she didn't bother to go and check on him.

Once he got his emotions under control he regarded his reflection in the mirror and considered his alternatives. He was sure the ankle was just sprained and not broken; his natural clumsiness had exposed him to more than his fair share of broken bones as well as sprains so he was reasonably sure he could tell the difference. While he balanced on one leg and leaned against the counter for stability, he pulled his blood soaked t-shirt over his head, managing to get more of the substance smeared on his face and stuck in his hair. Boone ground his teeth in the realization that a full shower was now a necessity, instead of the quick wash up he'd planned, and somehow awkwardly accomplished the task without any further incident. On completion, it only took a quick scan of the bathroom for him to drop his forehead to his hand. In yet another moment of stupidity, prior to his shower, he'd neglected to retrieve anything to wear. He reached for the jeans he'd been wearing, but they had blood on them too, the girl had bled like a stuck pig, and far more than he'd realized. With a towel wrapped securely around his waist, praying to the island that no one would enter his office or walk past in the hallway and see him, he crawled on his hands and knees out to the closet to get his last set of clean clothes, and returned to the bathroom to dress.

He was now faced with the problem of mobility. Kneeling with his left leg on his desk chair, he experimented with pushing himself around the office. Realizing almost immediately that, while in principle the idea would work, the chair itself was far too large for practicality, Boone headed out the door and down the hall. Once he reached his intended destination, their startled accounting clerk was quickly upgraded to his large leather executive chair, as her far less cumbersome operators model became the stand in for his left shin.

As he headed back for his kitchen, Margie heard the rattle and look up in astonishment as he passed her desk, shaking his head again and daring her to ask what the hell he was up to.

"I wouldn't even think of it." She held her hands up, reading his expression.

Shannon's mirth knew no bounds as she stood in front of him in his workspace on her return. "Boone what have I told you about trying to walk and chew gum at the same time?" She commented then wrung the truth out of him, pronouncing it even funnier than what she'd said.

Still chortling to herself she left for home to retrieve his old cane for him, and a couple of tensor bandages.

He thanked his lucky stars when the rest of the day passed without any stabbings, drownings or blunt force trauma incidents occurring.

Boone stopped briefly in Shannon's office to kiss her goodbye as he wearily left for that night's event, the handle of the hated cane gripped securely in his hand. He wondered at the slightly smug expression on her face when she told him she'd be seeing him in a bit. Maybe she was going to stop by the venue later, he assumed, she sometimes did that.

When he got in his car he came to a sudden realization and the minimal satisfaction he'd had earlier in the day over injuring his left leg this time and not his right dissipated with his growing awareness. He couldn't drive. The pressure required to depress the clutch fully, caused more pain than he could stomach. If it had been his right ankle, he could probably have managed the much less force it took to work the gas and the brake, but there was no way for the third pedal. In a sudden fit reminiscent of a "terrible-two's" tt, he raised his fists and pounded on the wheel in frustration, his head lowered. Clenching his jaw and breathing deeply, he caught a movement in his peripheral vision off to his right. Turning his head he was met with the unwelcome image of Shannon leaning back against her drivers' door, laughing hysterically at him for the second time that day.

He ground his teeth and pushed the button for the passenger window. "Laugh it up Chuckles," he spat.

"Aw, is poor widdle Boonie having a hissy?" She asked, as if speaking to an enraged toddler, when she had her giggles under control.

"Piss off," he retorted, his anger slowly giving way to chagrin as an embarrassed flush crept over his cheeks.

"You finally figured out that you can't drive, didn't you?" She questioned knowingly, clearly having come to that conclusion some time prior.

He nodded, now completely mortified, and dreading the mileage she was going to get out of this one, the reason for her smug smile earlier dawning on him.

She read the realization on his face, "Why the hell do you think I followed you out here, once I knew you were far enough ahead that you wouldn't see me?" She'd eagerly awaited his reaction and had wanted to observe it unnoticed. "Come on, I'll drive you."

Boone hobbled over to the passenger side of her car, and climbed in wishing that a fault line would open under Shannon's feet and swallow her, her laughter really starting to grate on his very last nerve.

At the site of the event, after securing a promise from one of the guys to drive her incapable husband home after the party she left him behind his grill, once again kneeling one legged on a chair. At least this way, she'd be sure he'd actually _come_ home that night. It might be the only silver lining to this day she reflected.


	13. Chapter 13

Boone healed quite rapidly and was back walking on two legs the next day, having elevated and iced the ankle as he slept. A few short days later any trace of a limp was gone as well. In spite of the impression given by his slight frame, he was surprisingly resilient. Shannon remembered how amazed Jack had been at how swiftly he'd recovered from the Beechcraft incident, though given the miracle cures of Locke and Rose, and even of Boone himself, she suspected that the island had more than just a little hand in it. Perhaps, she speculated, there was still a little residual island healing power in each of them. It wasn't a farfetched notion in the slightest given that their talents seemed to actually be growing over time, as if being nurtured in their bodies, not decreasing as they would have expected, their time on the island receding further into their pasts. Boone had told her about being able to read Tom and Heather to some degree before they'd moved out, and she herself, especially now that she'd rejoined the family unit, found that she was increasingly more sensitive to the moods and thoughts of those around her. Andrew, of course, had been fully gifted since birth.

Even though he was one-hundred percent mobile again, Boone's mental state continued its downward spiral, accompanied to a lesser degree by his physical health as well. It seemed the less sleep he got, the less he _could_ get. He'd crawl into bed, exhausted, only to lie awake tossing and turning, seized by insomnia caused by his load of responsibility, his barely functioning mind overwhelmed. He was also becoming increasing distracted and unable to focus, and their sex life had become non-existent. It was a repeat of how he'd let himself become at Christmas, when Shannon had resorted to getting Jack to intervene. Conferring with Andrew, who knew this different Boone even better than she, he confirmed her suspicion that Boone was in fact gripped by depression again. She'd had to, regretfully, rouse him from what little sleep he was managing to get, two nights in a row. His pitiful whimpering and moaning awakening her, his body twitching in the throes of a nightmare. She pulled him from the grip of whatever night terror he was experiencing to only partial wakefulness. Mumbling incoherently and droopy eyed, he returned to more restful slumber each time, spooned up against her chest, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist, protecting him from the bogey man that was stalking his dreams.

Kevin returned to work, thankfully, on day nineteen of Boone's unbroken string of eighteen to twenty hour days. It wasn't a minute too soon; they could all tell he was near the breaking point. Shannon had been one day away from pulling the plug on the whole thing and damning the consequences to their clients.

The first thing Kevin did, after apologizing, was send Boone home immediately. One look at the guy told him that his fuels cells had run completely dry; he was pushing himself on his last reserves of adrenaline only. When Boone agreed instantly, not putting up a fuss at all, Kevin knew that his normally over-achieving boss was done.

After ensuring that Kevin was brought up to speed as to where they stood, Boone headed for home slightly before noon. Once there, he packed a cooler with beer, water, food and some ice packs, then swam out to the raft, pushing the floating plastic cooler ahead of him carefully, not wanting to tip the somewhat unstable container.

He spent the rest of the afternoon alternately snoozing, and reaching in to his store of food and drink. When the baking rays of the sun became uncomfortably hot, he'd simply roll off the platform to submerge his overheated body in the cool of the lake, only to start the whole cycle again when he heaved himself up onto the wooden surface once more.

By four-thirty when Shannon's silent greeting entered his thoughts, advising him that she and Andrew were waiting for him on the beach, he'd had four beers and was enjoying the first feeling of calm he'd experienced in almost three weeks.

He packed his stuff up and traversed the short stretch of open water quickly, joining his family on the strip of sand, sporting a somewhat sloppy grin.

"Are you drunk?" Shannon eyed him suspiciously, at the same time thinking it unlikely. While he indulged in the occasional drink, to the best of her knowledge he'd only ever once, thanks to Sawyer, drunk to excess.

"Nah, just happily relaxed." He smiled, feeling slightly buzzed.

Hearing the clunking of the empty bottles rattling together in the cooler as he placed it carefully on the sand, his actions more measured than usual in his mildly inebriated state, she lifted the lid and peered inside.

"_You_ drank _all_ that beer?" She exclaimed.

"It's been since noon." Boone whined in his defence.

"I'm surprised you didn't drown on your way to shore. That's a hell of a lot of alcohol for you," the observation was accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

Andrew listened to their good-natured bickering as his mom took one handle of the cooler and his dad the other. He followed them as they continued the playful argument all the way to the house, casually swinging the plastic item between them.

While Boone was in the shower, Shannon made some secret plans, recruiting Andrew into the conspiracy reluctantly. He figured he was finally going to get his dad back after Kevin's extended absence, so the last thing he wanted was to lose him again, even temporarily. When Shannon promised him exclusive access to Boone for an entire day, just the two of them doing whatever they wanted, he relented.

Over dinner, after gauging his mood, Shannon broached a bit of a touchy subject. "Boone?"

"Hmmm?" He raised his head.

"You're going to have to let that girl go, you know." She advised him, reading his uncomprehending puzzlement, she added "Stacey."

"No," he frowned, shaking his head.

"Honey, she's not working out. In the past two weeks, she's dropped that lasagne, sliced her fingers and wound up in emergency. I know that things have happened with her before too," she told him.

"When I hired her, I promised her I'd give her a chance," he protested. He'd hired them all, young and inexperienced, except for Kevin, with the same promise.

"And you have Boone, several in fact," she reminded him. "Look, it's a question of safety too, hers and everyone else's. Who's to say she won't forget a pan on the stove and set the place on fire?"

"And who's to say _I_ won't? I fuck up all the time." He cringed at the lame defence that only served to point out his own shortcomings.

"Jesus Christ Boone! There's an adult argument! So because you're a clumsy doof we should keep anyone else who is too? What is it? Safety in numbers? Klutzes unite?" Her sarcasm hung in the air. "She's gone! One way or another! If you won't fire her _I_ will!" The bitchy Shannon who always got her own way overrode her previously calm reasoning, and completely wiped the fact of his currently fractured state of mind right out of her head.

Andrew gaped at her incredulously. Boone was mentally fragile just now, she knew that, why was she picking a fight?

His one scant afternoon of rest hadn't given Boone the energy for the fatiguing onslaught of an all out screaming match. "One more chance, just one, please Shan?" He pleaded brokenly, his posture hunched. "I'll…I'll talk to her tomorrow. It must be my fault, I mustn't have trained her properly." His head fell, as he added on another burden, taking on the girls' failure as his own, always wanting to shoulder the blame, not prepared to admit that _Stacey_ had failed _him_, not the other way around.

Andrew pushed his chair back with a scrape. Boone didn't even look up at the sound.

'Nice one Shan, he was feeling better, now you've gone and crushed him again.' He glared at her furiously. "I'll be in my room," he spat. The boy gave the top of his dads' head a look of sadness and pain; then shooting her one more scowl, stormed up the stairs.

'Aw fuck!' she cursed. She'd really messed things up royally this time, she thought ruefully, though if Boone wasn't like this, then none of this would have happened, but he was like this because she'd made him this way, but she wouldn't have been able to make him this way if he'd been stronger to begin with. She argued with herself in her head, going around and around in a circle, typically not wanting to shoulder any part of the blame. When she failed to find any satisfactory conclusion that absolved her of any guilt in her "which came first, the chicken or the egg" circle of thinking, she sighed deeply then set about dealing with Boone, hoping Andrew would sort himself out for the time being.

Shannon moved around the table to sit right beside her husband, sighing in frustration and then assuming several roles all at once including wife, business partner and therapist. She reached out and took his hand, holding it gently, "Boone? Look at me, baby." Shannon requested softly.

When he did, his head lifting slowly, she observed his face twitching; she could see the pain in his eyes. His lip trembled, his brow furrowed and smoothed, his eyes narrowed, the crinkles forming and disappearing as he warred with himself. Shannon knew how much he hated being like this, but his internal fight was only serving to exacerbate his depression as he cursed himself for his weakness. She slipped inside his head briefly and got caught up in the maelstrom of his feuding thoughts and self recriminations; pulling her mind away quickly before she got sucked in too deep.

Half an hour later Boone was looking considerably better. Shannon had thought it best to capitulate so they'd agreed, as Boone had requested, that Stacey would get one _last_ chance. She knew he wasn't using his illness as leverage to sway her, unlike herself Boone didn't con.

She left him doing the dishes and headed upstairs to work on mending her rift with Andrew.

On the Friday, Shannon was waiting in the kitchen of their house to greet her family, having sensed their arrival. She'd left the office in the early afternoon, ostensibly to work from home, but in reality had needed to put some final touches on her plan.

"The two loves of my life, hey guys." She kissed them both; then followed Boone upstairs as he went to change before starting dinner.

When he couldn't find his favourite pair of jeans, Shannon lied easily and told him she had a load of laundry going. He didn't think those jeans had been dirty, but with his Swiss cheese of a mind lately his memory was as full of holes as a kilo of the stuff, so anything was possible. What was far less probable though was Shannon doing laundry without having to be hounded to perform the chore, he let it slide though, and selected another pair.

"I need you to come with me and put air in my tires, I think the right front's soft." She told him on their way back to the kitchen.

"Huh?" Boone gave her a sceptical look. "I'm sure you can manage that yourself."

"French manicure yesterday, remember?" She held up her hands, wiggling her fingers under his nose. "You don't want me ruining it and wasting all that money, do you? Besides, it's a guy thing, the guy always does it."

He gave her another look that clearly indicated he thought she'd completely lost it, then, with a resigned shrug, agreed to go with her.

The tire certainly looked okay to him, but she insisted that the vehicle was pulling to the right. Since it had recently been serviced and the alignment adjusted, he figured she must be right, so heaving a longsuffering sigh he climbed in the passenger seat.

When they passed the closest gas station without turning in, Boone glanced sharply in her direction. Pointing his finger at the place, he opened his mouth to speak. Shannon beat him to it, however.

"The air's not fresh there," She delivered her absurd excuse in a matter of fact tone of voice.

"What the fuck?" Boone exclaimed, his eyebrows bunching in consternation. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"I don't want _their_ air." Shannon answered, indignation in her tone. "And I'm shocked at you Boone, that you'd even suggest compromising my safety by wanting to put stale air in my tires."

Boone was now convinced that she was either totally mad, or scheming at something.

When they went speeding by the second service centre, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"What's wrong with their air? Wrong colour?" He asked sarcastically, now firmly convinced that she was up to something.

"Well, duh! Theirs is blue, you know I favour pink." She managed to sound completely serious.

Boone let her play this out a little longer, but when she headed out of town he spoke up. "Okay Shan, what the fuck is going on here?"

"We're going away for the weekend." She informed him coolly.

"No." Boone protested.

"Like _that's_ going to stop me." Shannon snorted, "When will you learn?"

"What about Andrew?" He started throwing roadblocks at her.

"What about him?" She wasn't going to make this easy.

"We told him we were only going to be gone for five minutes, and he can't stay alone in the house all weekend." He may have been mature, but he _was_ only almost ten.

"He knows where we're going, and he's staying with Joan till we get back." She'd made the arrangements after booking the reservations.

"I don't have any clothes." Boone kept at it doggedly.

"Duffel's in the trunk." That was why he hadn't been able to find his best pair of denims.

"I need my note book!" There was real concern in his voice.

"Glove box." Shannon pointed, taking her right hand off the wheel. Her left was hanging out the window.

Boone fought the urge to reach for the wheel, alarmed, though he should have been used to her driving. He popped the front of the indicated glove box and his black bound book slid out onto his knees. "How?"

"Andrew. When we were upstairs he put it there." She swerved around a bend in the road, pressing the accelerator down firmly, her hand back where it should be, though it was really just the tip of her thumb and index finger that were guiding the speeding vehicle.

"I'm still _not_ going away for the weekend, Shan!" His voice came out higher than he'd intended, he just ended up sounding like a kid who didn't want to go to his smelly old Aunt's place.

"I'd have to disagree with you there, brother dear. You're a passenger in _my_ car, _I'm_ driving, and _I'm_ going away for the weekend. You're totally kablastafucked, and you _are_ going away for the weekend. Face it Boone, you're being kidnapped."

"I'll put up the ransom," he offered hopefully.

"Okay," she readily agreed.

He started to look pleased until she told him that the ransom was a weekend away, _that_ weekend. He went back to pouting and started screwing around with the radio in an attempt to annoy her. After five minutes, when she showed no sign of being bothered, he stopped, not sure if he was more pissed that she hadn't been bothered by it, or that _he_ had. He crossed his arms and scowled at her, managing to look just like Andrew.

She laughed at his childishness. "If you start asking me "Are we there yet?" I'm just going to tell them we're staying Monday too."

"Fucking bitch." Boone muttered.

She hid a grin.

"I'm supposed to do an event tomorrow." He remembered suddenly, surely that'd sway her.

"Kevin's going to fill in, and I refunded your appearance fee." She'd hated to part with the money, but there was no question that Boone's health came first. "I told them you were sick. And you're _going_ to be unless you take this little break." Shannon looked over at him, her expression serious. "You're not twenty-two any more Boone, if you won't take better care of yourself, then _I_ will."

"Oh," faced with her concern, he couldn't really argue, he knew she was right.

He settled back in the seat, finally resigned to his fate, and promptly fell sound asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Boone prowled the room while Shannon flopped down in the middle of the overstuffed bed after kicking off her sandals. She opened the information folder they'd gotten from the reception desk and checked over her schedule. Boone had been remarkably laid back since waking five minutes away from their destination, not even batting an eye when the woman at reception wished Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford a pleasant stay, the reservations being in Shannon's name.

She heard him poking about in the bathroom, searching for a reason to complain.

She pulled the page labelled 'general guidelines' out of the right hand side of the folder and scanned it. "Hey Boone." Shannon called on reaching an item of importance.

"What?" He poked his head out of the ensuite.

"It says we're supposed to remove all of our jewellery." She put the page down and pulled off her wedding and engagement rings without even giving it a second thought. Crossing the room, Boone visibly flinched as the silver bands cleared the top of her finger. She put her hands behind her head to release the clasp on the gold chain that suspended a cross in the middle of her chest, the necklace that Boone had given her quickly joining the two rings on the coverlet. Boone stood beside her, staring at his left hand.

"What?" She echoed his question, wondering at his immobility.

"I haven't taken this off since they gave it back to me when I was discharged from the hospital." He continued to stare at the worn silver band.

"It's only a ring, Boone. We're not going to suddenly be divorced if you take it off, and I'm not going to vanish. Stop being such a sentimental dough head."

He sighed and bit his lip. "I guess." He pulled on his wedding ring, but it refused to budge. Sticking the digit in his mouth, he lubricated it thoroughly, then tried again. The band slid smoothly off his finger revealing a livid circle of white shiny skin at which he stared in dreadful fascination.

Shannon was already uncurling her legs and heading into the bathroom to retrieve the jewellery box that the info packet had advised was there to hold their valuables, she paused and glanced back at him, his eyes remained transfixed on his hand.

"Pour me a glass of wine would you Boone? There should be a bottle of my favourite in the fridge." She asked, as much to redirect his attention and give him something to do as that she wanted a glass of chardonnay.

Returning with the box she scooped her jewellery up off the bed and dropped it in, then held it out to him impatiently, the lid still lifted, as he handed her the chilled glass.

Boone had put his ring back on when he'd gone to fulfill her request and now he hesitantly removed it again, dropping the item into the felt lined box with a clunk. His necklace followed, the chain slightly thicker than hers, the number 'eighty-four' enamelled disk also making an audible thunk as it hit the bottom of the box. The original leather thong of the birthday gift she'd presented him with the past summer had snapped when he'd caught it on a drawer handle in the kitchen. He was always careful now about tucking the item under his t-shirt. His bracelet was quickly added to the mix.

Snapping the lid closed Shannon held it out to him, "There's a safe in the closet." Boone nodded; he'd already spotted it during his inspection tour. "And put our wallets in there too," Shannon directed him. She'd read that all costs, including tips were automatically charged to their room, thus eliminating the need for carrying the bulky items.

He read the instructions on the electronic device, quickly programming in the combination of four, eight, one, five, as Shannon settled herself on the bed again, scooting up and settling back against the abundant supply of mammoth pillows, her head buried again in the literature.

Boone opened the fridge once more to see what caught his fancy and reached for a bottle of water.

"For Christ's sake Boone, you're on holidays, have a fucking drink!" She didn't even raise her head.

"Yes dear," he immediately acquiesced, not wanting to start a fight, though all he really wanted was just to slake his thirst. It had been hot in the car with the top down. The sun had beaten down on them robbing them of body fluids, and he'd perspired more than he'd realized. He spied a small bottle of his preferred brand of scotch amongst the liquor bottles on the tray on top of the bar and decided that he'd have some of that and _still_ manage to get his water as well. He lifted the lid on the ice bucket, "I'm just going to go and get some ice, then."

She waved a hand in the air in dismissal.

Passing by reception in his quest for the ice machine, his step faltered as the woman behind the desk asked 'Mr. Rutherford' if their room was acceptable.

"It's Carlyle," Boone corrected. "My sisters' name is Rutherford, mine's Carlyle."

She apologized, wondering why the person who had taken the reservation had made such an unprofessional mistake as to not confirm the names of both parties. She directed him to the location of his intended destination, and brought up their records on the computer.

She noted strangely that they had a room with a queen-sized bed, if the woman who checked in with him was his sister, why hadn't they requested one with two doubles? Oh, well, she decided, it was certainly none of her business; he'd just told her that the room was fine, though the significance was decidedly odd.

She made the corrections and pushed print. The change would update through the whole system, but she wanted to give him a proper copy of his schedule.

"Mr. Carlyle?" she called, as he passed by going the other way. She extended her hand, holding out the sheet of paper. He came forward automatically, looking puzzled. "It's a reprint of your schedule, the one in your folder has the incorrect name." The smile he gave her in appreciation wiped all conscious thought from her head, when he tugged on the paper it took her a couple of seconds before she came to her senses enough to release it.

Back in the room, Boone handed it to Shannon and went to fix himself his drink.

"Why did you get another one of these?" She asked sharply, wondering where hers was, wanting to be sure that he wasn't getting something extra that she should be too. When he explained about the name mix up, she checked his sheet. "I didn't even notice," she shrugged, swapping them out.

"I'm sure you didn't," Boone muttered, though he knew she'd probably checked to make sure _her_ name had been correct.

He sat in the wing-backed chair that faced the bed and put his beverage on the table, carefully placing it on a coaster. He leaned forward and undid his hiking boots, pulling them off, followed by his socks. Boone extended his legs, resting his heels on the ottoman in front of the chair, wriggling his toes in pleasure at having them released from their confines. He sighed deeply in contentment thinking that this actually _was_ a really great idea.

"Of course it is, Boone, don't seem so surprised! I _am_ capable of having them you know." Even Shannon's snapping at him didn't raise his ire, he sipped his drink, swirling the smoky amber liquid around in his mouth making sure to trigger all his taste receptors.

Settling back in the chair, he watched the golden haired beauty on the bed, marvelling again that she was his. After a few minutes he got up and crawled onto the bed at her side, taking his drink with him. Boone leaned back against the pillows and settled his hand on her thigh just below the hem of her shorts, the intention of his touch simply loving, not sexual. Shannon turned to him and flashed her best smile, and just as his smile had affected the receptionist earlier, hers' now captivated him, rendering him momentarily breathless.

They sat companionably together surrounded by too many linens, their small figures swallowed up by the bed's overstuffed opulence, making them look like a couple of kids who'd commandeered grandma's feather bed.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, reading along with her as she continued examining the brochure. He smiled every now and then as she needlessly read a point aloud to him, not stopping her though, enjoying the sound of her voice.

They stayed snuggled on the bed, conversing silently once Shannon finally put folder down. She rolled over onto her stomach and squirmed down so she could see him, her chin resting on top of her hands, her knees bent upwards, bare feet crossed at the ankles. Given the adolescent appearance of her posture, they could have been a couple of high school kids who were dating, sneaking a few forbidden moments in her bedroom in her parents' home. The only time they left each other's sides was when Boone rose twice to refill their glasses. Several hours later, hunger finally reminded them that they needed nourishment.

It was late enough that they were among only a handful of diners in the on site restaurant. Boone eyed the menu suspiciously, but most of the spa food fit within his restrictions easily. Their waiter was a very amiable young man who gave them just enough attention over the course of the meal, without being intrusive. He brought them a basket of whole grain dinner rolls, swiftly removing the dish of butter when Boone waved it off. Running down the list of specials, he stopped as Boone's eyes lit up at the fish feature, Shannon choosing the Asian Soba noodles. They selected a clear crisp white wine, the colour so pale that, if not for the fact that it was in a stemmed glass, they could easily have mistaken it for their water. Boone was rewarded again at the end of the meal when he requested his tea, finding out that they not only had his favourite jasmine variety, but brand as well. Shannon took her coffee the same way he drank his tea, plain, straight out of the pot. By the end of dinner, the attractive pair had completely won the guy over, and he was calling them by their first names. Shannon signed the bill, adding a substantial tip, then they headed out to reconnoitre the rest of the facility.

She wasn't the slightest bit surprised when Boone unerringly found the pool. Given his love of the water, she'd often remarked that he should have been an Aquarius instead of a Virgo. They scoped out the area, finding a hot tub and a sauna then Boone, unsurprisingly, suggested a swim.

Returning to the spot after donning their swimsuits in their room, Boone quickly started doing laps in the pool as Shannon immersed herself in the hot tub. After a few minutes, it became uncomfortably hot, so she moved to the cooler water of the pool. She gave him half an hour in total, and then told him she was ready for a sauna.

Boone opened the outer door of the sauna area, revealing a pristine white tiled hall. There were adult sized niches off to the right, showerheads in each, and a mound of fluffy white towels on a table to the left. The door to the actual sauna was at the end of the corridor.

The temperature in the cedar-lined room wasn't overly oppressive, but when Shannon laid a hand on the bare wood of the benches she snatched it away quickly. Boone was already reaching for the door handle before she even had time to send him on an errand to fetch towels for them both.

He was gone far longer than he should have been for just a towel run, and her impatience was just about to get the best of her and send her after him, when he re-entered.

Boone saw that she was naked, the fabric scraps of her prior attire hanging off of a warning sign proclaiming that 'Swimsuits MUST be worn at all times.' He smirked at how she'd predictably not only disregarded the sign, but actually mocked it, by draping her bikini from it. He reflected that he was most grateful that he'd had the foresight to take the measures that he had when he'd been in the outer area.

While his back was turned Shannon settled herself comfortably. Boone spread his towel on the lower of the two benches and undid the string of his bathing suit; he figured he might as well be as naked as she was. He hung the blue trunks on the same sign as her two-piece and turned into the room.

She'd posed herself quite carefully. She was reclined back against the wall of the sauna, sideways on the bench; inside leg bent at the knee, foot flat on the cedar surface, her outside leg was hanging over the edge, toes brushing the lower bench. Her eyes were closed and, with her head tipped back, there was a slight arch to her upper torso, which displayed her chest to its full advantage. Boone caught his breath, and whimpered at the sight with which he was presented. He alternated his stare between the exposed area between her legs and the bead of sweat that was making its way down between her breasts.

She gave him a minute, "Stop staring Boone, didn't your mother tell you it's not polite?"

Another helpless noise escaped his throat, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He realized that he was becoming dizzy, a combination of the heat and the amount of blood that was being redirected to his groin leaving him light headed. His recently AWOL libido had come back with the force of a supernova.

"Sit down before you fall down, Boone." Shannon suggested.

He stumbled senseless to the bench and collapsed in an ungainly mess onto his towel. He sat breathing deeply, his whole body rocking back and forth at his attempt to draw enough air into his lungs.

Shannon smiled with satisfaction and descended to the floor. She tucked her index finger under his chin and tipped his head so she could see into his eyes. "Hot enough for you?" she asked suggestively, the double meaning obvious.

He was on his feet in an instant, wrapping her into an embrace, their sweat slicked bodies sliding easily against each other as he devoured her mouth.

"Aren't you worried about someone coming?" she pulled away after a minute, breathless, amused that he was allowing this to go as far as it was, considering the public nature of their surroundings.

"Only if it's not us." Boone answered with a heated smile, his voice low and gravelly. "Don't worry, no one's going to walk in on us," he added with confidence, claiming her mouth again, hands sliding smoothly over the dampness of her body.

Not questioning his answer, she gave herself fully over to him. Her hand travelled down his chest and across his stomach, her fingers twining teasingly in the dark curls at his crotch.

The ratting of the outer door didn't even permeate their consciousness as the small room filled with their moans.

The chair that Boone had levered under the outer door handle when he'd gone for the towels held firm, and the disappointed couple who'd intended to use the sauna moved on into the night.


	15. Chapter 15

Boone awoke, mind snapping fully from sleep to confused awareness in the space of a heartbeat. He was certain he was supposed to be somewhere, but wasn't sure where. The answer was quick in coming; the market, his memory screamed. It was his turn to stalk the grassy aisles that organized the outdoor stalls of the local organic farmer's market into a user-friendly grid. His turn to fussily select the freshest and most appealing ingredients for that day's recipes, he was certain of it. He was just about to struggle out of bed when he frowned. The ceiling didn't look right, but he couldn't immediately place exactly where he was. It took a few seconds for the reality of his surroundings to permeate his consciousness, when it did he relaxed back into the comfort of the embrace of both the bed and his wife.

He snuggled Shannon a little closer and rolled his head to the side to check the time. He saw with satisfaction that the illuminated numbers on the bedside clock/radio revealed that it was just five minutes later than he'd guessed, but it was still far too early to get up if he didn't have to pick over bunches of radishes. He tried to will himself back to sleep.

After an hour of fitful dozing, he decided he'd had enough, the self-enforced immobility simply serving to make him antsy in the extreme. He sorted out their tangled mess of limbs and extricated himself from the Twister-like jumble, without waking Shannon.

Boone had gotten a lot of practice at moving silently through their bedroom in the mornings, his usually starting several hours before hers. He managed to don his running clothes and get a bottle of water out of the fridge without prompting so much as a twitch from the mound under the covers. He held off snapping the plastic fastening of his bum pack closed until he was out in the hall however, certain the sharpness of the sound would disturb her sleep, and have her awaken even more irritable than the princess from that old children's book about there being a pea under the royal mattress.

In the foyer the most recent in a roster of receptionists greeted him, seeing his attire she guessed his intention and suggested that he try the south path. When he clearly looked lost, she pulled one of the supply of tri-fold pamphlets out of its Lucite stand and spread it open on the surface of the desk to reveal a map of the facility. After she pointed first on the map to the printed entrance to the path and then across the parking lot to the actual entrance, Boone finally got his bearings. When he asked why the recommendation, she responded that there were often deer sightings on that trail, especially this early in the morning.

Outside he stretched his leg muscles out carefully. Palms flat on the brick surface of the building he reached his legs back one after the other and pressed his heels to the sidewalk, feeling the slight burn as he stretched the tissue. He jogged slowly across the parking lot and up the trail, increasing his speed as he felt himself loosen up.

The only sound, other than that of Mother Nature, was his own muffled footstep thuds as he ran easily, advancing quickly along the well-worn dirt and leaf strewn path as it wound through alternating patches of forests and clearings. When he reached a small meadow off to his left, the promised deer were revealed.

There were six of them, of various sizes, ages and sexes, drinking from a meandering stream on the far side of the small grassy field that was sprinkled liberally with a variety of wildflowers swaying their colourful heads in the gentle breeze. He slowed, but didn't stop, not wanting to alarm them. One of the largest of the adults majestically raised its head and regarded him with interest.

Boone found himself automatically radiating calming goodwill without even meaning to, the sight bringing a grin to his face that stretched from ear to ear. He didn't necessarily intend to communicate telepathically with the creatures, he honestly didn't know if it was even possible, but whatever force was in play seemed to work, the buck lowered his head to the water again, unconcerned. Boone ran on, the warm fuzziness of the encounter a stellar start to his day.

He pulled the water bottle from the zipper compartment of the bum pack frequently, squirting the essential liquid into his mouth. If there was one thing he'd learned from the island, and from Jack, it was the necessity of an adequate water supply. By the time he reached the egress of the path, at another point adjacent to the parking lot, an hour after his start, there was less than a quarter of a bottle left.

He bent well forward from the waist and poured the rest of the contents over his head and neck, shaking it off like a dog when he stood, careful that he was far enough away from the cars that none of the liquid, now salt laced from his sweat, could spatter on the vehicles.

Boone opened the door of their room cautiously, not certain if Shannon was up yet, not going to the trouble of reading her first. She was standing naked, by his side of the bed, the slip of paper he'd left on his pillow for her in her hand. She glanced over at the sound of the door opening and smiled. Boone glanced around the corridor to be sure there was no one there, they may have been okay with casual nudity, but he sure as hell didn't want another guest to get an eyeful of his unclothed princess, then pushed the door open enough that he could slip inside.

"If this is a depiction of your self image, then we need to get you some breakfast pronto." Shannon laughed indicating his note. He'd drawn a stick figure of a running man in a moment of playfulness instead of leaving a more mundane message.

"Maybe I'll just have you for breakfast." He pulled her into a hug, clutching her evilly against his sweat soaked smelly body.

"Eww, eww, eww," she swatted at him with limp wrists pretending to be a helpless female. They both knew she was anything _but_.

Both laughing they broke apart after sharing a passionate kiss.

"So how was your run?" Shannon asked heading to the bathroom so they could shower.

"I saw a herd of deer." He responded happily.

"Mmmm venison," She made her answer sound like Homer Simpson's response to doughnuts. She even managed to add gurgling drooling noises.

In retaliation at her suggestion that she'd eat Bambi, Boone pitched his sweaty t-shirt at her, catching her on the side of her head; then he was chasing her into the bathroom the pair of them giggling like idiots.

As much creatures of habit as any humans, they sat at the same table as the night before, pleased when the waiter from dinner proved to be their server again. He set their cups of tea and coffee in front of them, without them even requesting them, and inquired after their night. He then, earnestly and surprisingly without a trace of cockiness, informed Boone that ten fresh caught local perch had unexpectedly come in that morning, and he'd set one aside for Boone's breakfast. The night before Shannon had, with a roll of her eyes, told the guy that her husband would eat fish three times a day if he could. He'd taken her at her word, and had reserved one of the prized catch for the male side of the engaging couple he'd had the pleasure of serving.

Boone was wondering if there was any way he could steal the young man away from the resort for their own business. Professional waiters, who honestly loved their work and strove to be the best at it, were very rare indeed he knew, and while they didn't yet have a requirement for a full time waiter, he was sure he could fill the guys' time.

Once again at the end of the meal a substantial tip was added to the charge when Shannon signed the bill.

Schedules clutched in their hands, they approached the spa area of the facility, Boone nervous, Shannon anticipatory. They were split up and a co-ordinator assigned to each.

There was a sign on the wall in the change room stating that wearing underwear was acceptable but unadvised in order to appreciate the full spa experience. Shannon read it as she shrugged out of her clothes stripping naked before pulling on one of the plush white terry robes, she knew Boone would be doing the same; he was as comfortable with being nude as she was. The thought of another woman seeing him naked didn't phase her one bit; there'd been enough of that during their year on the island, and besides, the people in the spa facility were professionals, there was nothing sexual about it.

She slipped over his mind cautiously, not wanting him to sense her intrusion, wondering if he was concerned about someone seeing her naked, but found no trace of any even marginal alarm, she wasn't sure if she should be pissed or reassured about that.

Shannon was a model spa customer; she gave herself over completely to the whole experience, chatting easily with the cute guy who administered her Organic Babassu Sugar Glow. While he exfoliated and stimulated her skin, she learned almost all there was to know about Lance without actually giving much away about herself at all. He found her ease with removing her robe when they moved on to the Organic Babassu Body Wrap a welcome pleasure, and he swore he could hear her purr as he progressed to the scalp massage.

Boone on the other hand was anything but a model spa customer. He'd never been comfortable with being the centre of attention, and definitely didn't believe that he deserved it for a minute. He steeled himself for the ordeal and obediently headed down the hall as directed.

He was tense and wary as he received his manicure, and almost whimpered at the pedicure. Try as she might Shari, the manicurist, couldn't coax him into conversation or get him to relax much at all; she caught him actually grimacing a few times. He cursed Shannon privately in his head the whole time, wondering how he could have thought the night before that this was a good idea.

When his co-ordinator Rachael came to take his lunch order, Shari shared a private look with the woman before exiting, she sure hoped whoever was assigned to administer his next treatment had better luck than she did at convincing him that this wasn't some horrible punishment.

Rachel quickly reshuffled his schedule in her head, the staff had all become adept at reading both their customers and each other, so Shari's look hadn't gone unnoticed by her. Boone breathed a sigh of relief at the information that he was being given an unexpected one hour reprieve, then examined his too perfect nails, all twenty of them he thought in dismay.

Returning briefly to their room, he retrieved his PMD and latest book, his hesitant footsteps faltering as he headed back once again to the proverbial scene of the crime. He settled back into the full body contour chair that was supposed to be relaxing but now reminded him of nothing more than the dentist chairs in which he suffered in agony when getting fillings as a child, and attempted to immerse himself in the distractions of music and literature.

It proved to be the Men's Marine Relaxation Facial that was Boones' undoing, but not in a way that he imagined. His head rolled back limply as Chelsea's fingers worked their magic, massaging his cheeks, chin, and forehead; he was barely conscious when she applied the masque. After an hour she attempted to wake him numerous times, but was unsuccessful.

Shannon was getting her fingernails painted an almost adulterous shade of bright red, her facial masque already applied, when Rachel hesitantly entered the private room Shannon had been assigned. Rachel explained that Boone had fallen asleep, and nothing they'd tried had successfully awoken him. She sheepishly asked if Shannon possibly give them a hand.

She rolled her eyes at Boones' unwitting and unwelcome intrusion, then followed after Rachael, assuring the woman that she wasn't annoyed with her; she knew he could sleep like the dead at times.

Shannon poked at his shoulder, "Boone?" but got nothing. 'Boone?' she tried again.

He opened his eyes, their grey colour immediately taking on the astonishing blue hue of the goop that had been applied to his face. Shannon gasped in surprise, her eyes wide at the effect. She assumed that the proximity of the vividly coloured paste to his irises was what intensified the change.

On Boone's end, he awoke to the terrifying sight of some alien creature leaning over him; its lumpy green tinged faced and white conical head horrifying. He scrambled his heels frantically on the lower half of the chair, keening in terror the whole time, as he tried to get away.

Shannon snapped out of it first. "For fuck sakes, you asshole it's me." She snatched the tower of towel off her head, her blonde hair tumbling to her shoulders.

"Oh Christ, Shan! Shit!" Boone's frantic hyperventilating slowed.

"Fuck, you're a moron." She was still staring at the startling blue of his eyes, however. "You see this?" she asked Chelsea glancing at the girl sharply.

Chelsea leaned over and then did a double take, "Whoa! His eyes were closed when I finished. That's quite the sight though."

"What? What?" Boone looked a little frantic.

"Oh calm the fuck down, asswipe." Shannon answered in annoyance.

He continued to appear perturbed however.

Heaving a sigh she grabbed a mirror and thrust it in front of his face. He jumped back at the apparition with which he was greeted. "Gah!"

Then he realized what they were looking at, his eyes were the azure colour of the Mediterranean Sea.

"Hmm," he smiled a bit cockily, somehow proud of himself, though he'd had nothing to do with it. It was simply his chameleon eyes picking up on the colour of the hydrating substance that had been spread on his skin.

Shannon, however, was unimpressed at just how _impressed_ he seemed with himself. She dropped the mirror on his chest.

"Make sure he eats all of that," she pointed at his lunch and flounced out of the room.

In response he shot her retreating back a look of pure venom.


	16. Chapter 16

After lunch Boone had a few hours respite which he used to his advantage by returning to their room and changing into his swim trunks. He didn't bother informing Shannon of his plans, he knew that she was no doubt completely absorbed by the fawning attention which she so loved.

At the pool he used his charm to persuade the few guests who were using it to leave him an unobstructed lane to one side so he could lose himself in the soothing rhythm of propelling his body from one end to the other. Boone repeated the mindless pattern, the repetition transporting him into the sanctuary of inner peace he always achieved when swimming.

He was always a trifle trepidacious when swimming in an unguarded pool, nervous that some calamity would arise and he'd be pressed into employing his old life guarding skills. Boone hadn't attempted to perform CPR since the disastrous day of the crash, when Jack had so callously dismissed him for a fool. Though the man had, months later, taken the time to patiently show him exactly what he'd done wrong, he'd never had the self assurance, and thankfully the necessity, to ever try it again.

When he judged that he'd run out of his precious free time, he reluctantly returned to his private room in the spa section of the resort.

All he had left for that day was a massage.

Chelsea welcomed him back with a warm smile. As she turned her back to finish her set up, she told him he could leave his boxers on if he chose. He'd been uncomfortable enough in the morning that she figured he'd probably feel more at ease that way. However, when she turned back around he was hanging up his robe and was as naked as the day he'd been born.

Boone sighed, his facial expression and posture more befitting that of a man who had resigned himself to a much despised, but necessary prostate examination. He made no effort to cover himself at all, which surprised her; he simply walked dejectedly over to the massage table and asked her if she wanted him to be face up or down.

"Up to start," she replied, trying not to think about how gorgeous he was, and what she was about to do to him, her professionalism easily driving all inappropriate thoughts from her head immediately. She draped a towel over his midsection and got to work.

Shari had noticed the scars on his wrists and the odd tattoo during his manicure, and while she'd thought it exceedingly strange that he'd have his sisters' name permanently emblazoned on his body, and in such an odd context; they'd all been filled in on the correct relationship between the two, after Boone's admission of that morning, it was the vertical lines of keloid that had given her pause. She also wondered why he'd be away on vacation with his sister in the first place, the white skin on his left ring finger proclaimed his married status quite clearly. She hadn't mentioned anything, however, the director of the facility had a very strict policy when it came to gossip, so Chelsea knew nothing of any of Shari's observations or musings.

Chelsea paused and frowned as she worked the jasmine scented oil he'd chosen down the inside of his forearms to his wrists, quickly resuming the stroking of her hands to cover her momentary stutter. She similarly thought the tattoo odd, but like Shari wondered more about what could possibly have driven someone like him to want to end it all. Her expert fingers also easily found the faint traces of the marks on his chest as well. However he might have appeared, she had a feeling that there was far more to him than his pretty exterior suggested.

When it came time to get him to turn over, it took Chelsea a few tries to rouse him enough to follow her instructions. When he finally did, he did so bonelessly, almost tumbling from the table in uncoordinated semi-consciousness.

She readjusted his head and moved his legs and arms into more comfortable positions than the awkward ones he'd ended up in. He was loose and pliable in her hands, his limbs seemingly made of rubber. She was reminded of a high school science project where they'd immersed chicken bones in vinegar only to pull them out several hours later to find that they resembled nothing more than al dente bucatini.

She poured more oil in her palms and warmed it before going to work on his well defined upper arms.

He'd not washed his hair after his swim in the chlorinated pool, as a result it was dry and coarse, when Chelsea moved on to his back and shoulders, the strands sucked up the oil like it was life's own blood, the lighter brown of it staining dark and silky.

Slightly more than an hour after she'd started, she was done. Waking him, once again, proved to be beyond her purview.

Shannon purred softly, her fingers actually stretching now and again as if she was a Siamese extending its claws in contentment, Lances' strong hands moved over her calves, his thumbs digging deep as he proceeded with the Reiki Aromatherapy massage, the scent of patchouli heavy in the air. She knew it was Boones favourite, Lance had assumed she'd select the chocolate scented oil, it may have been stereotyping, but most women did, however neither she nor Boone really cared for that particular confection, and she had no desire to smell like a Ghirardelli factory. She knew that after the thorough massage, she'd positively exude the aroma, arousing Boone every time he was near. The thought curled her lip as lascivious thoughts filled her head, reminding her just how much she loved him.

That impression came crashing down as the door opened and Rachel crouched into view so she was on the same level as Shannon.

The woman looked even more embarrassed than she had at lunch.

"He did it again didn't he?" Shannon didn't even wait for a response, immediately levering herself off the table and grabbing her robe.

Boone was passed out on the massage table, the room redolent with the scent of jasmine. The first thing she did was lift a corner of the towel off his butt to satisfy her curiosity, and confirm her assumption of that morning that he'd be naked just as she'd expected. Chelsea wondered why his sister would want to see his nude ass.

Shannon moved around to his right side and looked down at his face. His eyes were closed, of course, his dark lashes pale against his fair skin. She couldn't resist reaching down with an index finger and brushing along the width of them, and then back again fanning them gently. His signature eyebrows furrowed slightly in response. She blew softly in his ear, enjoying herself by playing with him in his completely unguarded state. A hand twitched slightly, but that was all.

'Boone?' He snorted slightly. 'Bo-one?' she dragged it out in his head. He snorted again and tried to roll over, as if he was in his own bed.

"Hey steady big boy." Shannon grabbed his hip just before he tumbled to the floor, his towel fell, his oil slicked butt moved back in response to the pull of her grip. He was now face up totally exposed and sprawled on the bench. "Boone?" She tried it out loud this time.

He jerked upright and swung his legs over the side like a marionette whose strings were being manipulated by an amateur. Shannon rushed around the table. "Boone?" she tried again.

"Shan?" he finally seemed to recognize her, though his eyes were strangely unfocused.

"Yeah, it's me Boone." She put a steadying hand on his chest as he stood and swayed. "Come on, it's time I put you to bed sleeping beauty." Shannon held her free hand out and snapped her fingers. Rachel realized that she wanted his robe and brought it to her.

"Where's mom? We'll be in trouble if she catches us sleeping together again." Boone's eyes drooped closed once more. She worked his arms into the sleeves, with her focus solely on him, she didn't even consider the impression his words must have been giving the two spa employees.

"Mom?" What bullshit was he babbling on about she wondered? She decided to go with it. "I think mom's downstairs." Shannon overlapped the two sides of the front of the terry garment and tied the belt securely, while Chelsea worked his feet into his slippers.

"Oh," he snapped his head back up, his lack of co-ordination giving him the appearance of a bobble-head doll, "and Dad?" In a desperate effort to find an authority figure to love him, his young and attention starved psyche had made it surprisingly simple for him to come to think of Adam as 'dad.' Though it was a practice he abandoned as he got older, especially after Sabrina coldly reminded him that Adam was not, in fact, his father.

Shannon assumed, considering the way he was speaking to her, that he meant Adam not his own father, but either way the answer was the same.

"Daddy's gone Boone, he died." She told him gently, wondering about the strange tricks his mind was obviously playing on him. Shannon was starting to believe that he was actually still sound asleep, though he'd never talked or walked in his sleep before to the best of her knowledge.

"Oh," he repeated; then grinned a little sloppily at her. "You're a great little sister Shan. I love you," he mumbled, sounding like some overly sentimental drunk on his fifty-seventh rum and coke.

"I love you too Boone, you're a great big brother and if you want to stay that way, you'll come back to the room with me." As she reached for his chin to try and get him to look at her, she caught sight of the look on Rachel and Chelsea's faces at their exchange; her hand dropped, the implication of his words suddenly dawning on her. She had no way of knowing, thanks to Boones' slip of that morning, that they actually thought they _were_ brother and sister. Either way, his words certainly cast them in a new, and definitely perverted, light.

He sighed, "Kay Shan." His face nestled into her shoulder.

"Did he have anything to drink at lunch?" she asked them over his head as he drooled and all but snored, leaning against her. Shannon thought the question might encourage the women to discount his shocking ramblings as caused by over indulgence in alcohol; she was also still trying to ascertain why he was acting so strangely.

"He only had a glass of red wine, but he seemed okay. And, anyway, he went for a swim after that." Rachel suddenly wondered if he was an alcoholic or on medication and shouldn't have had the merlot.

Shannon was sure that such a small quantity of alcohol shouldn't have affected him, and said so, much to their relief. Still she was mystified by his behaviour. She drifted herself over his thoughts, but they were dark and murky, with widely scattered tiny isolated patches of clarity, like a fetid swamp dotted by spots of uncontaminated water. He was simply caught in an altered state of limbo, she decided, not quite awake, but not exactly asleep either.

"I don't know why he's babbling such absurdities, I guess you did your job too well," she told Chelsea. "He's so relaxed he's still half asleep. I'll just get him back to the room." She gripped his upper arm and forearm firmly and guided him out to the hall, bouncing him off the door jam as he staggered drunkenly.

The two women left in the room exchanged astonished glances and promptly broke every rule in the "no gossip" policy.

Shannon assisted him, stumbling, to their quarters. Boone seemed to almost come back to himself a few times on the way, but never really fully clued in on where he was, simply content to follow her docilely. Once he was lying on the bed, he rolled over on to his left side and started knitting his feet together fretfully. She realized that he was attempting to rid himself of the slippers Chelsea had put on him before they'd left and removed them for him. He settled down immediately, his left hand palm up, fingers curled gently; close enough to his mouth that he could almost have been sucking his thumb. She brushed his hair from his forehead gently then went to pour herself a glass of wine.

She sat in the wing backed chair, watching him just as he'd watched her the evening before. Her eyes swept up and down him, settling over and over again on the tattoo on his left wrist, unusually exposed by his lack of jewelry. It prompted her to go to the safe and extract the box with their personal effects. He hadn't told her the combination; there'd really been no need to, he was so predictable that she just automatically punched in four, eight, one, five, hearing the satisfying click as it allowed her access.

Shannon took the box and returned again to the welcoming embrace of the comfy chair. Opening the lid she took out the first of the items, examining each one in turn, letting her thoughts wander.

She came awake to the pressure of a gentle hand on her shoulder. Boone was standing in front of her, watching, his face creased into a soft smile when he saw her eyes flicker open.

'Hey.'

'Hey, yourself,' she answered.

Boone gestured at the open box on her lap, 'What are you doing with that?'

'Memories,' Shannon shrugged.

'You turning all sentimental and mushy on me now?' He scoffed, breathing a little laugh at the impossible notion.

"Pfft, don't be ridiculous!" She lifted her feet off the ottoman so he could sit and removed their weddings bands from where they were nestled in the box. Putting one on each of her forefingers, she held them out to him. "You should get your ring refurbished, Boone, you can barely see the engraving any more."

He leaned in, with the two silver circles side by side it was quite obvious that his had seen a lot more wear and tear than hers. He already knew that she'd worn hers on the chain around her neck, instead of on her left hand, during the years of her absence.

Boone of course had never removed his, except by necessity. "Mine _does_ look more worn than yours, but then I guess that's only to be expected." The overtone of regret in his voice was clear. He suddenly realized that he'd gotten past the bitterness he'd harboured since her return. Now he was only sorry for all the time they'd missed, though he knew it had been necessary. Her staying would have destroyed them both, as her leaving almost did him, but now that she was back for good, their bond was even stronger.

"It's always going to be between us isn't it Boone?" Shannon asked a bit sadly, knowing he'd understand that she was talking about the six lost years.

"Only if we let it Shan," He reached out and cupped her face gently, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "We can't wish those years back, but we can move on from them and put them behind us. I'd like to, I think I'm ready to."

Shannon nodded quickly in agreement, and he leaned in to kiss her, as if sealing a pact.

He sat back as she dropped the jewellery into the box and shut the lid; with the sharp sound of the catch, the mood of the room changed completely, the sappy melodrama evaporating instantaneously.

Boone glanced around looking a little perplexed. "I, um, I don't exactly remember coming back here." He admitted, sheepishly. "What happened?"

Shannon laughed and told him each and every little detail, relishing the look of horrified embarrassment that crept onto his face, accompanied by the usual red flush, as she recounted his wild ramblings and less than dignified exit.

When it was empty Boone refilled her wine glass and, surprisingly without prompting from her, poured himself a scotch and water. When he returned with the beverages, Shannon stood so he could sit in the chair, then she climbed into his lap sideways, slinging her long legs over the arm. They reclined against opposite sides of the encircling upper back of the seat and sipped their drinks in comfortable silence, the chair easily accommodating the two slight people easily.

Growling stomachs reminding them of their hunger, they retired to the ensuite to shower. Once the hot spray soaked them, the oily residue that remained on their bodies from their earlier massages released the mingled fragrance into the steamy enclosure, arousing them both.

Their passion tempered by their relaxed state, the sex that followed was slow and languid. Hands glided, touched, retreated, only to reach in again, each foray tentative, each glance hooded, sultry, eyes flicking, never resting on one focus point for long. Mouths met, tongues teased, teeth bit gently.

When he finally pushed her up against the heated tiles, forearm reaching down to lift her onto him, she locked her lips as firmly on his as her legs locked around his waist, only releasing his mouth when the force of their simultaneous orgasm caused her to throw her head back as she cried his name.


	17. Chapter 17

When Boone awoke it was still dark with the inky blackness of full night. He knew it was far too early to rise, the summer solstice was next week, coinciding with Andrews' birthday, and the number of hours of daylight were almost at their maximum, so dawn came early. He'd often marvelled at coincidence of his sons' birthday being the same as that of the Druids' most revered holy day. Randomly he considered suggesting to Andrew that next year they journey to Stone Henge to view the dawning of the boys' twelfth year in the sacrosanct circle of stone monoliths. He knew it was the kind of unique experience that his equally unique son would appreciate. He tightened his grip on Shannon as he smiled softly, still half asleep.

His left arm was thrown possessively over her waist as he spooned against her. He extended his neck slightly, burrowing his nose in her hair. He could still detect the faint scent of patchouli on her skin, and brushed his lips against the softness of the back of her neck, carefully though, not wanting to wake her.

He sighed deeply in contentment, astonished again at the path his life had taken, and that it still included the blonde beauty he encircled in his embrace. His mind catalogued the births and deaths, the betrayals and epiphanies, all the cataclysmic events that had filled their lives and lead to this point. He willed himself back to sleep, the panoramic movie of their lives playing against the insides of his eyelids.

Shannon moaned, her eyes flickering open, she sensed that Boone had been awake just moments earlier, his psychic energy still lingering like an iconic memory only she could detect. She slid her hand down to cover his as it dangled loosely against her belly; lacing her fingers with his she pressed it against herself. Her mind, as well, thinking about their history, however she went back to the very beginning of it.

They were in the breakfast area of Sabrina's kitchen, Boone sitting across from her, his long fall of fine auburn hair (he'd still had a lot of red in his hair at the age of ten) hiding his face as he hunched over his Cheerio's, skim milk no sugar; just the way his mother told him he liked them. Adam and Sabrina were standing by the sink; he was smiling at her, his hand reaching now and again to cup his new wife's cheek. Shannon gritted her teeth every time he did, she swung her legs forcefully back and forth as she spooned up her Fruit Loops, she'd already put two spoonfuls of sugar on them after she'd doused them with a generous measure of eighteen percent cream. Each time Adam showed any deference to Sabrina, Shannon swung her legs more forcibly, kicking Boone in the shin as hard as she possibly could. She hated her step mothers' home, hated her new room and especially hated her new "brother" who had quite possibly the stupidest name she'd ever heard. How dare he depose her from her rightful place as only child? Typically never once stopping to think that she was doing the same to him. She kicked him again, and listened to him apologize once more, as he had every other time her foot had connected bruisingly with his leg.

"I'm sorry for being in the way. I'm so sorry." This time though his breath had hitched on the last word. She realized that his thin shoulders were shaking slightly.

She stilled her legs. "Boone?"

His face came up slowly, she wasn't sure if she was more shocked by the bright red handprint that still lingered on his pale cheek or the unshed tears that glistened in his eyes. She suddenly wondered if he'd been apologizing to her or to his mother, who had so obviously left her imprint on her son before Shannon and Adam had joined them in the kitchen.

"Don't tell. Please?" He pleaded. She didn't know what she wasn't supposed to tell and whom she wasn't supposed to tell it to, Sabrina for his crying, or Adam for the mark she'd left on her boy?

"I won't." She promised after a beat, and reached out to cover his small hand with her own even smaller one. The pact between them had been set at that, though she'd had no way of knowing then that it would exist to this day.

She lifted his arm gently and squirmed around so she was facing him, the memory bringing tears to her eyes. No wonder he was so vulnerable, so easily hurt, the pattern had already been woven when he was a child; her heart ached for him, and her part in his never ending wounding. 'I love you.' she thought at the amazing man he'd become, and then whispered the same words aloud, brushing her lips across his. He moaned softly, his mouth twitched with a slight smile. She thought about waking him so they could make love, but settled instead for just watching him as the gradual lightening of the slowly encroaching dawn crept over them through the uncurtained patio door. They'd never closed the drapes in the room, and they didn't even have any in their bedroom at home, they'd gotten so used to the al fresco sleeping arrangements from the island that it had just become the norm for them.

She fell back to sleep, her face inches from his on the pillow.

Boone blinked himself awake, the low-lying sun of early morning highlighting a blazing patch across the white linen of the duvet that covered them.

"Hey baby doll." He stroked his hand down her thigh.

"Hey lover," her response was accompanied by a languid stretch. "How'd you sleep?"

"Next to you," he answered, getting the most out of the cheesy answer as he brought his hand back up the inside of her thigh brushing it between her legs.

She grabbed his wrist with a throaty laugh and pushed it away. "You're such a doof."

"Still married to you though, right?" Boone chuckled.

Shannon heaved a belaboured sigh. "Yes, it's my lot in life, married to my idiot brother."

"I've been thinking," he said. "You might be right about me not being twenty-two anymore. I mean obviously I'm not, but maybe I _should_ slow down a bit."

"You aren't Superman, Boone." She thought back to last October, when he'd volunteered to chaperone Andrews' school Halloween party. It was something he'd done every year, though she'd had no way of knowing that. He'd actually dressed as Superman for the event. She'd laughed at the sight of her small statured husband garbed as a super hero for the night. She'd jokingly said that she hoped that a roaming pack of wild marmosets wouldn't get loose. She couldn't imagine five foot nine inch Boone, weighing in at maybe a buck fifty soaking wet with lead shot in his pockets, standing as a wall of defence against anything more than a bunch of tiny monkeys, though she'd certainly seen differently with her own eyes. When he'd headed off with Andrew, in her small two-seater car, she'd gone to the front counter of the store to shell out to the few goblins what came down their way. Halloween was really the only time she had any patience for children, other than her own son.

"No, I'm not." He looked introspective for a minute. "This was a really good idea, Shan, thanks."

"I do have them at times you know."

At breakfast they had their favourite waiter serve them again; then they split up, Boone going for a professional shave and Shannon for a full waxing. He'd been a bit peeved at her announcement, and a trifle slighted, like his personal shaving service wasn't good enough for her. But when she'd told him that, based on the amount of money they were spending at the resort, it had been thrown in for half price he relented. It still pissed him off a bit, but she knew the answer would appeal to his frugal nature. He had to be the most money conscious rich person she'd ever known.

The exchange set him to wondering just how much this "adventure" was costing him.

"Nothing Boone, I'm paying for it out of my own money." Once she'd started receiving a pay cheque, Shannon had opened an account of her own, understandably proud that she was earning a substantial salary, and wanting to see the tidy sum increase. He'd always paid for everything, so it didn't bother her in the least that she wasn't contributing to the household expenses and was keeping all her money for herself. She spent a lot of it on him anyway. She loved surprising him with thoughtful gifts. He was always so shocked and embarrassed when she presented him with something, not ever thinking that he deserved it, but that just made it all the more fun for her.

After the shave he wandered out to the pool, carefully shielding his mind from her. He'd made the mistake once of not doing so and the pain that she'd experienced at the ripping off of the wax had stabbed through him like a knife.

Boone had his face buried in a paperback of daunting size, ear buds firmly in place when she joined him. He looked up as she approached and pulled the wires from his ears. He'd recently decided that he was going to work his way though the collected works of Tolstoy. Shannon would rather have had a root canal with no anaesthetic, but knew it wasn't going to be an onerous task for him. He'd sworn her to secrecy when he'd gone off to university, sharing with her that he'd wanted to major in English Lit, even though he'd automatically capitulated to Sabrina's insistence upon Business Administration. In an uncharacteristic bit of rebellion however, he'd managed to sneak one English Lit course into his freshman year without his mother kicking up a fuss.

"How was it?" He asked.

Shannon put her foot up on the side of his lounge chair. "Smooth as a baby's butt, feel."

Boone slid his hand up her calf. "Nice."

"You want to feel everywhere I'm just that smooth?" She smirked suggestively.

To her surprise his hand travelled up her thigh, his thumb sneaking up under the elastic of her bikini bottom leg where it was mostly hidden from view. He brushed it against her hairless and overly sensitive skin.

Her breath caught as he pressed a little more firmly. "Jesus Boone, you're certainly getting a little less inhibited."

"You invited me, and it would be rude to refuse." He grinned dirtily. "And you know I'm _never_ rude."

She leaned down and kissed him as he withdrew his hand much to her disappointment.

"How was the shave?" Shannon queried. "You obviously managed not to fall asleep again." She added snidely.

"Jeeze Shan, cut me some slack I just got finished putting in a string of nineteen twenty-hour days, and besides you were the one who wanted me to relax." He protested.

"Boone, there's relaxed and then there's comatose."

"I was _not_ comatose!"

"Yeah right Mr. "I don't remember coming back to the room." She used his words against him.

He muttered a string of expletives under his breath as she gave him a "Whatever, Boone," and spread her stuff over the lounge chair next to him. "I've got plans for us for the afternoon."

"The afternoon?" He whined. "I figured we had to check out soon."

"I've actually got the room booked till two o'clock on Monday." Shannon told him casually.

"Tomorrow? We're not leaving until tomorrow?" He sounded even more distressed.

"You tired of being with me already, brother dear?" She raised an eyebrow.

"No, it's just that I didn't get a real chance to say goodbye to Andrew, now did I? You don't get a hell of a lot of prep time when you're a kidnap victim." Boone shot back, holding his hand to his chest and assuming a wounded expression.

"We can leave today Boone. If you're missing him that much, why don't you call him?" She laughed, reassuring him.

The guilty look on his face told him that he already had.

"And what did you tell him?"

"That we'd be home for dinner, I asked him to take something out of the freezer for me."

"Cool your jets, Boone. We're leaving today. I already figured that you'd want to." She told him about the lunch plans she'd made for them and the hike she intended. She hadn't gotten a lot of exercise over the last couple of days, and really wanted to stretch her legs.

Shannon knew it was something that he'd appreciate. "And you can show me where you saw the deer."

He agreed enthusiastically, watching her for a bit before he went back to his self-assigned course load of classic literature. As she pulled her book out of his bag; he always packed everything for both of them; he winced again, as he had in the room, at the lurid front cover and lame title. She read the trashiest stuff, he thought, but at least she read, so he couldn't really complain.

At one o'clock a uniformed spa employee approached, the straps of a backpack suspending it from his forearm. "Ms. Rutherford?" When she acknowledged her identity he put it down and got her to sign for their picnic. Boone watched her scrawl her name carelessly, really enjoying being a kept man for a change now that he knew she was picking up the tab.

She took his hand as they headed up the path, increasing the intimacy of it by wrapping her other one around his bare upper arm, pulling him closer. He was dressed, as he'd often been on the island, in a sleeveless t-shirt, comfortable sturdy hiking boots, with jeans low slung on his hips, then as now from loss of weight. She really had to watch him more astutely she reminded herself, he'd dropped at least fifteen pounds in the last three weeks. She'd carefully selected the outfit when she'd packed for him, for some reason feeling a bit nostalgic.

Part way up the path Boone suddenly stopped and glanced around. 'Come with me.' He pulled her off the trail and moved carefully though the woods. It amazed her that he could move so silently through the forest, his determinedly acquired and applied jungle hunting skills totally ingrained, simply coming naturally to him, even after all the intervening years.

They broke into a small clearing just a few yards off the path. It was as if he'd known it would be there. Shannon couldn't discount the fact that perhaps he had, that he'd scoped it out on yesterday's run, or maybe he'd even just had a psychic sense of it existence.

He pulled her to face him and kissed her, his mouth exploring hers for several moments. She kept her hands low on his waist, the backpack he wore preventing her from wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Boone shed himself of it and unzipped it, rummaging through until he found the blanket; then flicked it out, spreading it open over the ground while she watched with interest. She didn't really think that he had food on his mind quite yet.

When he stood again and kissed her once more, she knew that she was right. "We're only a few yards off the trail Boone, aren't you worried about someone seeing us?" She didn't particularly care, but she knew he had to.

He pulled back and looked in her eyes; she saw something shift in his gaze as an idea formed in his head. "What if they did? What if they're watching us right now? What if they're watching me kiss you?" He slid his hand up to her face and worked his mouth against hers. "They can see that my hand is under your shirt, cupping your breast." He went on to describe exactly what he was doing to her as if it was from the perspective of a pair of voyeurs. When he got to the parts where they were watching Shannon do things to him, she followed his instructions instinctively. "They can't believe you're going to strip me naked when you slide the button of my jeans open and slowly unzip them."

His words and the thought of being watched, even though it was a complete fabrication on his part, drove her into a barely controlled frenzy. But whenever she tried to do something that he hadn't described, he batted her hands away. With the little part of her brain that wasn't caught up in the eroticism of it all, she was in awe at his concentration as he kept up with his monologue, his breathing shaky as he described how the fictitious people watched her stroke him.

Once they were both unclothed he lowered her to the blanket, words finally beyond his ability, replaced instead by guttural sounds of pleasure as he gave up any further attempt to continue the fantasy.

Unbeknownst to them, Boone's words had been somewhat true. There was in fact another couple watching them. Wide with mild alarm, two sets of brown eyes regarded the pair as they made love on the forest floor. Shafts of sunlight beamed down on the naked figures through breaks in the leafy green canopy as though fingers from the heavens were stroking them.

Startled by the sudden gasps and moans that issued from the self-absorbed lovers as they climaxed, the couple that had been observing them flicked their white tails, the two deer bounding silently out of the clearing.


	18. Chapter 18

Boone was impressed with the selections in the backpack as he laid out their lunch. He told Shannon she'd chosen most wisely indeed. The ice cold non-alcoholic apple cider he poured out from the thermos quenched their thirst fully; their pre-lunch extracurricular activity had left both of them a little parched.

As he opened container after container, making appreciative noises as he carefully peeled the lid back from each one, she pushed the information to the back of her head that she'd simply chosen one of the offered prepacks in the menu at reception, only giving enough thought to her random selection to ensure there be some kind of fish included. When he opened the tomato and garlic sardines with a "whoa" she was pleased that she'd gone to enough trouble to ensure that his precious seafood obsession had been satisfied.

They lingered over lunch, Boone leaning back against the bole of a tree, Shannon sitting on the edge of the blanket, not wanting to get grass stains on her shorts. She had her left hand on his jean clad ankle as she delicately speared the tasty treats he'd served her with her right. It was a bit awkward as she struggled to cut an asparagus spear with only her fork, but she needed the physical contact with him. They smiled at each other frequently. It felt like they'd renewed something over the past two days, leaving them somehow shy and tentative as they shared the picnic, almost like they were in the early stages of dating, though of course they'd never actually dated, at least not each other.

Boone packed up the remnants of their meal and pushed through the bushes again, holding the foliage back for her. He reluctantly led the way back down the path, the end of their brief respite looming closer. Shannon reminded him again that they could stay the extra day if he wanted, but he declined, just as she'd known he would. She didn't feel slighted that he regretfully turned down another day of alone time; she knew it was just his sense of duty and his awareness that they'd already stolen two unexpected days. That didn't stop him, however, from ravaging her again once they got back to their room.

They lay sweaty and spent, breathing heavily, sprawled on the bed, duvet flung almost into the ensuite. Shannon rolled onto her side, fingers drawing small patterns on his smooth chest. His grey eyes stared at the ceiling, though she was sure they weren't quite seeing anything.

'You sure about not staying till tomorrow?' Shannon asked, but all she got was a whimper in response.

The packing didn't take long. Once they were done, Shannon left him to do a final check and told him to meet her at the front desk. Boone gave the room the once over then removed their personal items from the safe and shoved his wedding band back on as swiftly as he could, pocketing her jewellery and hoisting the duffel over his shoulder.

Shannon was chatting with the front desk clerk when he reached the lobby. It was the same woman who had checked them in. He stood patiently at first, anticipating a rapid end to the conversation now that he was by her side, but it didn't happen that way. The receptionists' eyes kept flicking over to glance at him as he waited, lingering on him a moment longer each time, he frowned a bit at her scrutiny; he was still clueless when it came to his effect on women. He started shifting impatiently from foot to foot as Shannon kept the dialogue going.

"What!" She finally demanded turning on him.

Boone flinched, "Uhm, are we going?"

She huffed a sigh, "Yes alright."

"These are yours." Boone stuffed his hand in his pocket and retrieved her jewellery, holding it out to her. When she extended her hand he placed the items carefully on her palm.

"Oh," he made a small noise as she made a motion to put the items in the side pocket of her shorts.

"What, Boone, just what?" Shannon rolled her eyes.

"I just…that is…aren't you going to put them on?" He asked.

This time she both huffed a sigh _and_ rolled her eyes, "Fine!"

He wondered what had happened to the intimacy they'd just shared, but he knew she always put on a front when she had an audience. He decided to just go with the flow and not take her suddenly tough demeanour personally.

While she was sliding the rings back on her left hand the woman behind the counter couldn't help but catch the sparkle of the exquisite solitaire diamond that graced her belated engagement ring.

"What a lovely ring." She commented. "Your husband certainly knows how to please a lady."

"That he does." Shannon turned to smile at him. "Don't you Boone?"

He grinned and shrugged a little embarrassed.

The woman jerked her head to look at him, startled. "You said she was your sister!" She blurted.

His eyes widened with incomprehension, had he really, he wondered?

"You didn't!" Shannon turned on him. His obvious lack of an answer turned her to the woman behind the desk. "He didn't!"

She nodded.

"When, you idiot?" He was still without a clue. "When?" She demanded, turning back again.

The receptionist recounted his admission from when he'd been going for ice.

"Jesus Boone! You have to stop calling me your sister, we've been married for almost ten years, you doof." Shannon smacked his arm soundly.

"Sometimes you still call me your brother." He protested.

"Only when I mean to intentionally," she gritted her teeth at him.

He knew it wasn't true but prudently decided not to point that out.

"Explain the truth to the woman, Boone, now!" Shannon demanded.

He did so, apologetically, adding a Carlyle Enterprises smile at the end, to cement his explanation of their non-incestuous relationship firmly in her head, flashing his perfect teeth.

White, ivory, beautiful, grey eyes, perfect skin, button nose, single freckle, what? A stupid grin on her face, she was lost in his smile, just as she had been on Friday evening.

"Oh fuck!" Shannon pushed him back with irritation as she recognized the smitten and absent look in the woman's eyes, Boone may have been clueless about his looks but he still knew how to work a room. "Look at me. He's not my brother, he was but he's not anymore, we're married," at that she shoved her left hand under the woman's nose flashing the rings the woman had noticed earlier, the same ones that had started this whole conversation.

She started back, "Uhm, right, of course, sorry!" She stammered for a while longer but gradually regained her air of professionalism. She finished checking them out, thinking all the while about the wildfire of gossip that had started about them, and the partial bucket of water that she was going to get to thrown on _that_ particular blaze.

Handing Shannon the final receipt she added her usual farewell, a trifle hesitantly, that she hoped they had a pleasant stay and would be back soon. As mercurial as always, Shannon's ire had already evaporated, much to the woman's surprise she enthusiastically voiced their intention to return.

"Come Boone," she headed for the glass lobby doors, Boone in her wake, giving the receptionist once final glance over his shoulder, adding a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders as an apology for the whole scene that had just played out.

The little car leapt out of the parking lot like a wild stallion suddenly given back its freedom, Shannon shifting rapidly through the gears as she headed them back towards home.

Boone sat, nervous as always with Shannon driving, in the passenger seat, his hand wrapped tightly around the handle of the armrest. He suddenly realized that his degree of tension wasn't anywhere near as extreme as he normally experienced, he really _had_ unwound quite a bit over the weekend. It then struck him how, uncharacteristically, he'd relaxed at the spa almost immediately, totally unlike the snowboard vacation they'd gone on in March. He hadn't let himself unwind until almost the last day that time, though to be fair, it _had_ been a far more physically and mentally demanding holiday as they all learned a totally new sport. He'd gone through varying degrees of feeling uncomfortable these past two day at the retreat, to be sure, mostly because of his aversion to being the centre of attention, and his long standing belief that he didn't deserve it, but for the most part he'd pushed real life to the back burner without a second thought.

Once again he thought about what a great idea it had been, but, not wanting to stoke her ego any more than his other two admissions of the same thing had done, he kept it to himself. Shannon must have picked up on it anyway; she slid her hand off the gearshift and stroked his thigh giving it a gentle squeeze, smiling one of her best smiles at him.

Andrew's head suddenly appeared over top of one of the lower run of shelves at the store. Joan had him currently employed restocking some of the candy and gum selection for her. "They're almost home!" he announced excitedly.

Joan glanced over at him from the front counter where she was processing a long time customer's phone order, and gave him a smile. The only shopper present was back in the concentrated juice section, his head deep in the frozen food case. There was no way he could have overheard the boys' somewhat odd statement, even if he _had_ picked up on the strangeness of it, Andrew was always very careful, Joan knew.

"May I…?" He held up a hand and pointed at the door leading to the house, the rest of the question unspoken.

"Of course, dear," she gave him permission.

He was off quickly, entering the residence and heading for the back door. He guessed that they were just a few minutes away.

He was waiting by the back door as Shannon pushed through it, talking over her shoulder at Boone, nagging as usual. "Boone, seriously if you don't get that fixed I'm going to go right thought it one of these days." The automatic garage door opener had been working sporadically at best lately. "Hey!" She exclaimed at their son, happily, "Miss me?"

"Nah," he kidded, as she ruffled his hair, he leaned around her, while he _had_ missed her he was looking for the person he'd really missed the most. "Boone!"

"Hey, buddy, I missed you." Boone pulled the boy into a hug. Andrew had held back a bit; now that he was older he wasn't really sure what was appropriate any more. He loved his dad to pieces though, and returned the embrace without reserve, his face pressed against Boone's chest, his arms wrapped around his waist.

"Yeah, me too," Andrew pulled back and looked up at Boone, easily recognizing his dad's healthier glow, the deeply furrowed lines that had radiated from the corners of his eyes and mouth on Friday now gone. 'You had a good time.' He thought, happy to be able to revert to their private method of conversing.

Boone nodded, 'It was great.' He fell into it just as easily.

Shannon already had the fridge door open and was pulling out bottles of water. Once again it had been hot and dehydrating in the little convertible sports car. 'Catch doofus.' She pitched one at Boone; he fumbled it, but surprisingly didn't drop it. Snapping the safety ring on hers she chugged half of it in one go.

Andrew followed after them as they headed upstairs to unpack.

Andrew and Shannon sat on the bed side by side, sharing the rest of her water as Boone moved busily about the room emptying the duffle, the two of them describing their weekend to the boy; Shannon, with relish of course, detailing with exacting minutiae, Boone's episodes of humiliation.

'So what about you?' Boone asked leaning back against the dresser, his unpacking duties dispensed with.

Andrew shrugged, looking innocent, 'I did, you know, stuff, you know.'

'No, we don't know.' Boone chose not to extract the information; he respected the boys' privacy, Shannon however, did not, and started to chuckle.

Andrew shot her a pissed off, and decidedly guilty, glance.

'Tell him,' she urged.

He cleared his throat and settled on what he thought was the thing that would alarm Boone the least. "Well…uhm…Joan had a family thing on Saturday, so I kind of hung with Steve," he stated; Steve was Joan's husband.

Boone was immediately on yellow alert at Andrews' obvious discomfort and chagrined expression; Shannon just rolled her eyes that her kid couldn't dissemble more convincingly.

"And?" Boone lead, not knowing what horrific admission was coming next, only knowing that one was.

"We, uh, we kind of went to KFC for lunch." His shoulders hunched and he flinched, knowing what his dads' reaction would be. He really hated Shan for making him do this when they'd only just gotten home, though he knew he'd have to cop to it eventually.

Boone turned an interesting shade of green and pushed off the dresser. "W…w…what?"

"Well, I said I could only eat fish and chicken, but I forgot to say about the deep fried thing and so he thought he was doing okay, and I only ate a couple of bites, cause it was really gross, and then I picked off the crispy stuff and the skin, cause it was so slimy, but then it was better, and I didn't throw up, and I only had a few fries, and the cole slaw was really good, I ate mine and Steve's." He finished hopefully, the run on sentence having been absolutely stupendous in his consideration. He'd tried to minimize the impact on Boone by racing through it, not unlike ripping a band-aid off with a quick yank.

"You're killing me." Boone pressed his hand over his mouth as if he'd eaten the crap and was about to hurl. He leaned back against the piece of furniture again, trying to put as much distance between himself and the transgressor as possible, as if Andrew was actually advancing on him threateningly, brandishing a drumstick of the Colonel's extra crispy.

"Tell him the rest." Shannon directed, laughing at each word.

Boone's eyes widened, from her obvious satisfaction, what Andrew had left to say was going to be even worse. Had they gone for nitrate and fat filled sausages from one of those street vendors? His stomach flipped at the thought.

"Well, uhm." Andrew's face screwed up and he bit his lip, the rest came out in another rush. "We went flying, Steve's a pilot, he has his own plane, it's not a Beechraft, at least I don't think it is, it's a bit smaller, but he had a delivery to make, so I went with him, and I got to sit in the co-pilots' seat and he let me hold the controls for a minute, and I used the radio, and it was really fun, and we…we didn't crash," he ground to a stop as he added the last part needlessly, obviously they hadn't crashed.

As Andrew rushed through his admission Boone stared at him, horrified, his breathing increasing until he was almost hyperventilating, as his knees gave out, he slid down the front of the dresser, bumping over the protruding handles to wind up sitting on the floor.

He continued to stare at Andrew, transfixed, as, however much he didn't want to, he nonetheless replayed again and again in his head his _own_ experience in the Beachcraft. Though he hadn't flown in one, he'd most certainly crashed in one, and the thought of his son in a small private plane, terrified him boundlessly.


	19. Chapter 19

Andrew emerged from the school in the middle of a group of friends. When the kid in front of him stopped short he crashed into his back. "Sorry, dude," he muttered as he moved around the boy.

There was a man leaned back against the outer wall, one foot bent at the knee, the sole of his work boot planted firmly against the red brick. His leather jacket was grubby, worn out at the elbows, and his jeans were indifferent at best. He had a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip. After they'd stood transfixed for a minute he spoke "You boys findin' somethin' interestin'?"

They continued to stare, Andrew bit down on an errant lip that threatened to turn into a smirk.

"Well?" the dirty blonde hair whipped back as the guy lifted his head to regard them. He looked dangerous, his lips a thin cruel line.

"No…no, sir," one of the boys stammered, his eyes frantically searching out anything other than the possible drug pusher who was lounging so flagrantly against their school.

Andrew continued to stare the man down.

"Andrew, man, didn't you hear what he said?" One of the kids hissed in warning.

"Didn't your momma never teach you no manners boy? You starin' at a man, that's just rude." The blonde informed Andrew with a sneer.

"My momma's pretty rude when she wants to be, guess she don't care if I wanna be too," his inflection was impeccable, he had Boone's ear for mimicry.

"That so? Well I guess we gotta spend her a visit. You gonna come nice, or I gotta drag you?" The lanky guy pushed up off the wall.

"Recon it'd be better for me I don't cause a fuss." Andrew replied.

"I'm gonna have to give you props for that, cause it sure as hell would." He flipped his hand at Andrew indicating quite clearly that he was to accompany him.

The group couldn't believe that he was going with the man so easily, their amazement ramping up a notch when their friend reached forward and dipped his hand into the mans' jacket pocket deftly, re-emerging with the guys wallet, stuffing it down the back of his pants.

When they reached the grubby Chevy Malibu at the curb, Andrew pulled the door open, almost ready to enter he hesitated, the blonde man pushed him forcibly into the car.

The boys on the front steps exchanged glances. "You think we should tell Mr. Cheswick?" one asked, the implications of the possible abduction very clear. Typically none of them wanted to get involved, in addition, though the doors of the school were just a few steps behind them, it was the last day of school, and none of them wanted to pass over that threshold again until after Labour Day. Half way through the debate Andrew stuck his head out the passenger side window of the sedan.

"Hey guys! My friend James is coming with us tomorrow! It's going to be a blast, see you!" He waved and the shit box peeled away from the curb.

That the blonde dude could have truly been a threat and easily found some way to force Andrew into making that statement never occurred to them. Over the years their friend had been picked up at school by all strange manner of individuals, from a soft spoken Asian woman to a swarthy Middle Eastern man, from a petite blonde Australian to an actual rock star, though none would remain quite as unforgettable as Sawyer.

"Man, James, this car stinks." Andrew said. He'd hesitated at entering the thing, that was why Sawyer had pushed him.

"You dissin' my ride, Einstein?" The man gave him a hurt look.

"Well, yeah, I am. Does Boone know I'm in this car?" He was fairly doubtful about that.

"Naw, your momma sent me. Metro don't know shit." Sawyer was amused that he and Sticks were pulling one over on Boone again.

"So why are you here, James?" He knew that, while Sawyer often arrived completely unexpectedly, even during the years that Shannon had been away, the timing of this particular visit was entirely too coincidental. Of course Sawyer would have known it was Andrews' birthday, but he'd never made an attempt to put in an appearance for that occasion before.

He'd been in his loft in LA when the call had come through; it'd been Boone asking if he could help out with Andrews' birthday party. Apparently some "Terry" guy had had a situation arise and was no longer available. Of course Sawyer had said no immediately.

That was when Sticks had gotten on the phone. Within five minutes he was heading to the parking garage, his ever prepared overnight bag slung over his shoulder, cursing her from LA to Timbuktu. She'd out conned him again, "Fuckin' bitch," he'd thought.

Andrew picked the details out of his head easily, just as Sawyer had intended.

"And I want my wallet back, son." He added, casually.

"You knew I'd taken it?" Andrew was distressed at being caught out; he'd hoped to be able to show off a bit.

"You're gettin' better boy, but you gotta be more gentle, I felt the tug at the last minute." Sawyer schooled.

"Shit!" He cursed, pushing the envelope, figuring he could get away with the minor swearing with Sawyer.

"You watch your mouth there, Einstein." He warned, though there really wasn't a lot of conviction in it.

"So it's okay that you taught me how to pick pockets and hot wire a car, but I can't say shit? Seems like a double standard to me James. You really care?" Andrew was amused.

"Ain't my call to make, recon Metro'd do his best to skin me alive if he knew of any of the shit I've shown you." Given Boone's knife skills it was probably something he could actually accomplish. "It may not seem so, but I respect your daddy's rules when it comes to you. I've heard him tell you not to swear, but as for the rest, well, I never heard him say you ain't allowed to lift a wallet or steal a car."

Andrew chuckled at the twisted logic of it. "Yeah, well, Boone's Boone…" Andrew fell silent at that, his idolatry of his dad causing him to become mute. He loved Sawyer too, just as he loved all of them, but no one was going to overthrow Boone from his place on Andrew's throne.

Supper was far more animated than usual, Sawyer poured drinks for both himself and Shannon before dinner, and even Boone had some Shiraz with the robust coq au vin that he dished up.

The rest of the boys were all dropped off at the house early Saturday morning. Boone had forced Sawyer to scrub down his entire car, inside and out before he'd let any of Andrews' friends ride in it. Andrew had prudently taken a shower and changed his clothes the night before, prior to Boone getting home, so his dad wouldn't catch a whiff of how bad he smelled. It was Sawyers' own overpowering tobacco stench, and Boone's long time acquaintance with the guy, that spurred the impromptu detailing. Even Shannon agreed, she'd winced at the opaque nature of the windows of the Malibu when she'd pulled in the driveway after work.

Marshalling the kids and trying to arrange who went with whom, while Shannon examined her nails and Sawyer lounged and smoked, Boone was distracted long enough that a little private power play happened while he was otherwise occupied. He had his eyes closed, running his hand through his hair while he tried to decide which of Andrews' friends Sawyer was least likely to become annoyed enough by that he threw them out of his moving vehicle on the ride to the park.

When Boone turned back around Chris was rubbing his shoulder and Peter was getting into the passenger seat of Shannon's car. Being both the oldest and the largest, Peter was rarely challenged; the only one who'd had the nerve to vie for the coveted place of honour riding with Andrews' mom had been Chris. He was paying for it now, a bruise already starting to spread across the flesh of his bicep, hidden by the sleeve of his t-shirt.

It had originally not been an issue when a group of them, larger than Boone's car could accommodate, went anywhere necessitating the additional use of the two-seater, Andrew had automatically always been the one to go with Shan. But once the novelty of her Indy-car style driving had worn off, he'd reclaimed his spot riding shot gun with Boone, of course he didn't have the same reason for wanting to sit next to his mom that the other boys did, though he was well aware of what it was.

Peter spent the drive staring at her legs, exposed almost all the way to the top by virtue of her very, very short denim cut-offs, Boone had even commented on their suitability for an outing of this nature, but she'd brushed him off. "They're just a bunch of boys, Boone!"

"Exactly," he'd muttered quietly under his breath, and then stolen another glance for himself.

Peter was fixated on Shannon's smooth golden thighs, the muscles of her left upper leg flexing stunningly each time she depressed the clutch, his breath catching a bit as the definition brought about by her exercise regimen sculpted the focus of his attention. Under his fringe of hair he also stole glances at her profile in his peripheral vision. Often when she finished a series of shifts, she'd leave her hand draped over the gearshift knob, rubbing her palm over it absently, and randomly curling her fingers around it, when she did that he bit his lip and pressed his legs together. He wished that he could think of something to engage her in conversation about, but his head remained devoid of anything but his burgeoning adolescent awareness of sex.

Shannon finally clued in to his surreptitious glances, "Good Lord kid! Puhleeze!" She rolled her eyes, humiliating him completely.

At the adventure park, the go-karts were up first. The kids were all excited, for most of them this was their first driving experience. After a thorough briefing, they all fastened their helmets and climbed into the cars. The smell of twin stroke engines filled the air quickly as they circled the track.

Humiliatingly, but not unsurprisingly, Boone was the first casualty. He'd been distracted by something and drove his car right off the track, not just pushing one of the hay bales out of the way, but actually ending with the front of the chassis suspended from it. He buried his face in his hands, wondering yet again 'why me' as the rest continued to race.

The other boys quickly fell by the wayside as well as Shannon and Sawyer vied with each other, eventually the only two cars still on the track. They all stood and watch the contest that rivalled NASCAR quality, drafting, bumping and rubbing all being employed.

"Mr. Carlyle?" The attendant finally approached Boone. "Are they going to be at it much longer?"

"Just till they run out of gas, and then they're likely to get out of the cars and chase each other around the track." Boone advised.

"Out of gas? But I just topped up all the tanks before you started. That could take hours!" The guy cried in dismay.

"Well, if you've got a break scheduled, I suggest you take it then." Boone shrugged, gathering the kids together and herding them off for laser tag. Andrew had been tempted to try for paint ball, but figured that Boone would have an issue with the whole projectile thing; he thought he had a better chance with the more benign laser tag instead.

Boone wasn't sure when they'd actually given up on the go-kart challenge, he was just suddenly aware that now, instead of being adversaries, Shannon and Sawyer were in the black light maze and were acting in conjunction, taking down each one of the boys methodically.

'Jesus,' he thought at her. 'Is this Andrew's birthday or yours and Sawyers?' Without answering she followed his psychic energy back to him, targeting him and killing him dead.

The kids were still somehow not dispirited at lunch and boisterously devoured the food from the menu selections Boone had carefully chosen.

After lunch they engaged in the significantly less physically demanding offerings of the arcade, Boone wanting their food to digest properly. He shared a small private smile with Shannon as Andrew immediately made a beeline for the foosball table, motioning for Sawyer to follow him.

"I ain't playin' no f.."

"Sawyer!" Both of Andrews' parents cautioned, cutting him off. It wasn't the first time they'd had to do it.

"I ain't playin' no damn kids game." He amended, cleaning it up marginally.

"Fraid I'm gonna beatcha?" Andrew taunted; his words once again thick with a Tennessee accent.

"Ain't fallin' for it Einstein." He leaned back against the wall just inside the door. "Get Metro to play. Don't recon' he can hurt himself playin' some kids table game." Boone shot him an unimpressed look, while Shannon hid a smile. He'd already barked his knuckles trying to extricate his go-kart from the hay bale, and had become disoriented in the darkness of the laser tag maze, bashing head first into one of the walls.

The kids could have spent the rest of the day playing in the arcade, but Boone wanted them up and moving once he figured they'd spent enough time immersed in the almost seizure inducing flashing lights and raucous sounds of the video games.

Shannon was talking with Sawyer, her back to the rock climbing wall of their next destination, when the man snorted out a poorly concealed attempt at laughter. She spun quickly to see what was amusing him so much.

Boone was about a metre off the ground, harness and helmet on, he was reaching for a hand hold as he scaled the wall. She ran forward and grabbed the back of his jeans, yanking him unceremoniously to the ground. He staggered back a few steps in response to the unexpected arresting of his attempted ascent.

"What the hell, Shan?" he asked regaining his balance.

"Feet on the ground, Boone," she pointed at the floor to emphasize her point.

"What? Why? I've climbed cliffs successfully before _if_ you recall," he pointed out.

"Oh, yes, you certainly have. And that just ended _so _very well for you didn't it?" She sneered.

"I didn't fall off the fucking cliff; I fell out of the tree in the plane." He muttered to her privately, only Sawyer overhearing.

She waved her hand at him dismissively, "Whatever Boone. No climbing. Not now, not ever. Feet on the ground," she repeated, turning and walking away, closing the subject for discussion.

"Fucking bitch," Boone gritted his teeth at her retreating back, but he still removed the helmet and harness.

"Best trade those jeans in for a skirt Metro cause I sure do know who wears the pants in your family." Sawyer patted him condescendingly on the shoulder as he sauntered away.

"Asshole," Boone muttered, his cheeks flushing in anger.

They packed up the boys after that and headed for home, each of the kids wearing a souvenir t-shirt from the park.

They collected around the kitchen table so Andrew could open his gifts. Most of them were the typical selection of presupposed adolescent boys' items of desire as purchased by the different boys' mothers. It was obvious from a few of them however, that some of the women had been paying attention and knew Andrew better than the others.

There was a card with an enclosed gift certificate for a national book store chain, one with a similar certificate for a CD and DVD outlet, but the one that excited him the most was a box containing a selection of puzzle books, both mathematical and word based.

He thanked everyone enthusiastically and then glanced between his mom and dad. Last year Boone had told him that he'd get his present from them after everyone had left, this year however the same caution hadn't been given, so he was eager to find out what they'd chosen for him.

Shannon stepped forward and extended her wrist, hand down, when he automatically thrust his arm out in anticipation, she dropped a small ball into his waiting palm. He frowned a bit, then recognizing it for what it was, brought his head up and grinned at them, "No way!"

"Way," she said with a smile.

"Check the gym," Boone added.

His chair almost toppled as he rushed to rise and then pelted for the back door, his friends trailing behind him.

The foosball table was in a newly vacated section of the space. The reason Shannon hadn't been able to pick him up after school on Friday was because she'd been home waiting for someone to come to relocate the gym equipment, and someone else to deliver the gift. She'd returned to the office after things at home had been squared away.

"You guys are the best." He wanted to hug them, but hesitated in front of his friends.

"Einstein, you best thank 'em proper," Sawyer cautioned.

At that he moved forward to wrap his arms around each of them in turn, getting a kiss from Shan on the top of his head, Paul almost whimpered at the sight.

Typically Boone's son, he urged four of them forward to play first, the table would be at his disposal anytime he chose, besides he had some unfinished business.

Sawyer had never given him a birthday gift in the past, but something told him that this year it would be different.

Handing the ball to Chris, he turned to stand in front of the man. "So, what did _you_ get me?"

"Andrew!" Boone cried out at his presumptuousness. Sawyer was certainly under no obligation to provide the boy with a gift.

"S'okay Metro," he tossed his hair away from his face and reached in his back pocket, extracting a rectangular item, wrapped tightly in the plastic bag of the store from which it had been purchased.

Andrew took it eagerly and pulled a zippered wallet on a belt chain from the package. He regarded it quizzically, glancing from it to Sawyer, whose face was set in a one dimpled smirk.

Suddenly Andrews' eyes widened and he slapped a hand around, but encountered the reassuring bulge of his wallet in his back pocket.

"Ain't you gonna read the card?" Sawyer drawled.

The boy checked the bag and then unzipped the wallet and examined every pocket, but there was nothing. "There isn't one," he stated, puzzled.

"You sure about that boy?" Sawyer watched him, grinning smugly; both dimples now on display.

The three adults waited, Boone and Shannon figuring that this was some private game between the two.

Andrews' mouth fell open and he reached around behind him again, pulling his wallet out of his jeans. He opened it slowly, a small scrap of light cardboard fluttering to the ground. He knew it hadn't been there an hour ago when he'd made change for one of the boys who'd wanted a pop from the machine at the park.

He bent down to pick it up. It wasn't so much a card as more of a gift tag, the kind that might be included in a bunch of flowers. In fact Sawyer had charmed it out of the cashier at the front counter of the florist shop that had been across from the luggage store where he'd purchased the gift.

Andrew turned the card over.

'Happy Birthday' was pre-printed in the upper left hand corner of the space. Under that was written one word only:

Gotcha


	20. Chapter 20

Alicia's wedding went off without a hitch, at least as far as the food went. Boone may have been an accident-prone doofus in most regards, but when it came to this particular arena, he excelled. He'd been a highly successful event co-ordinator and was a natural in the kitchen, if he hadn't been, he would never have gone into the catering business to begin with. It also helped that Irene was the wedding planner; she'd worked for him when he'd been with Sabrina's company, so he was familiar with her style of doing things.

He spent the early morning at the local farmer's market, Terry trailing behind him, the handle of a garden cart in the teen's grasp, the bed of the wagon filling quickly with Boone's purchases. Boone made a few last minute adjustments to the menu based on the produce he found that met with his exacting standards, positively pouncing on some particularly luscious looking heirloom tomatoes in a variety of shades ranging from deeply startling maroon to sunny yellow, and buying every single one.

He rode his motorcycle to the reception, he liked to clear his head before each assignment and there was nothing like blaring down the highway with the wind in your face to loosen the cobwebs and help restore focus. He scared the crap out of Irene though when he pulled up. She was almost ready to call security to chase away the hoodlum biker, when he pulled off his shades and helmet, fluffing his hair, the grin on his face all too familiar.

"Jesus, as if it wasn't enough that Boone Carlyle became a chef, now he's a Harley rider too?" she commented, giving him a hug and a kiss. "I think somewhere some Hell's Angel is probably rolling over in his grave."

"Yeah, I'm just so militant and rebellious," he laughed and pulled his chef's coat from the saddlebag. The rest of his personal equipment would have come in the van with the food. He finalized a few details with her then went to supervise his troops.

During the planning stages, Frank had offered him the use of the mansion's kitchen, for which he was grateful, but what he really wanted to do was get his hands on the outdoor kitchen set up. He couldn't wait to spark up each one of the stainless steel barbecues. He left the indoor kitchen for his sous chefs and assistants.

They were well into the set up, his box of knives opened and set beside his personal cutting board when he felt the slight buzzing in his head. Turning he saw Frank lounging against a huge flowerpot, the man gave him a jerk of his head, beckoning him over. He'd been watching Boone for a while, waiting for a lull in the action so he could steal a few minutes of his time. Frank had escaped from the female frenzy in the house as quickly as he could, and headed for the back yard, there was a topic of conversation that had been eating at him ever since the Carlyle's had been there for dinner; one he'd meant to resurrect that night, but the proper opportunity had never presented itself.

Once he deemed that everything was under control, Boone grabbed the second in an endless progression of cups of tea he'd consume over the course of the afternoon and evening, and made his way over to his waiting client.

They headed for more comfortable seating under the marquee tent and settled themselves.

"You look like you've got things under control," Frank commented. "You got everything you need? I told my staff to be available for you."

"My own group is really good. If they weren't I'd be out of business by now wouldn't I? But thanks, they've certainly made things easier." Boone sipped at his beverage, still maintaining a wary eye on Terry and Lucy's progress. He'd kept his favourites with him, the pair always knowing that they'd be his right and left hand at any event.

"I wonder if I could ask you something?"

"Think you already did," he used one of Shannon's signature lines to him. He really liked the guy and figured he could joke with him.

"Yeah, I guess so." Frank laughed. "It's a bit…not personal exactly, but I'm not sure if I'm stepping over the line or not."

"Shoot," Boone invited, how could he tell until he knew what it was?

"This island, the place where you crashed, the place that evidently changed you all so much, just where is it?" Frank's hesitation was born in the concern that Boone wouldn't want to be reminded of such a cataclysmic event and struggle for survival.

Boone glanced down at his chest, running a hand over his chef's coat, and chuckling a bit. Under his uniform he was actually wearing a gag t-shirt gift that Charlie had given them all for Christmas several years before. The screen-printed message read: "I survived Craphole Island, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Of course they'd all gotten far more than a garment of Jersey knit poly/cotton blend, that was one of the things that made it all the more humorous.

"Craphole Island?" Frank looked puzzled.

"You _got_ that!" Boone was stunned; he hadn't said it out loud, and he knew the guys' ability wasn't that strong. He figured he must have been projecting more than he realized, but then all his thoughts about the island were automatically intensified, his feelings and emotions about the place still so strong, even after all the years.

"For some reason, yes I did." He confirmed.

"That's what we called it. Actually, it's what Shannon christened the island, and as for where it is, other than somewhere in the South Pacific, I have no idea." He went on to tell Frank that the fact that the cruise ship had found them at all was a completely mystery, during the investigation the bridge crew swore that the navigation equipment unwaveringly indicated that they were still on course. It also meant that where they'd been picked up was also lost in befuddled data. Most of the survivors were unsurprised that, when the whole system was dismantled and examined, not a single defect could be found. Boone just figured that the place was done with them, playtime was over, and it was time to put away the toys.

"You can't honestly believe that the island could think?" Frank dismissed.

Boone reminded him of the "Gaia Theory" and that some people believed that the whole planet had a consciousness.

"So, you couldn't find it again?" Frank pressed. "You've got no idea where you spent an entire year of your lives?"

"Sorry, none at all," Boone shrugged. He wasn't really sure why the guy was so interested, or why he'd think that they'd even _want_ to go back. While he still felt, and he knew many of the others also felt, irrational homesickness for the place, he didn't ever really want to set foot in its' freaky jungle of mystery or rape caves ever again. Still, he considered, if there was anyone who could locate the island again, he was the most likely candidate. He still had the connection to Locke, and if he truly focused, he was reasonably certain that he could follow the psychic thread back to the sole living member of flight 815 who had chosen to remain behind.

"Boone?" Terry was standing behind him with a bowl of something, Boone's brief tea break obviously over, he returned to the outdoor kitchen area, and his duties for the balance of the event, apologizing to Frank for cutting their discussion short.

"I hired you to cook, not talk to me, so I can't really complain." Frank excused him with a smile.

Boone took a short bathroom break before the reception got into full swing, heading up to the house to check on his staff in the kitchen as well. Finding everything copasetic, he headed for the only restroom he knew of in the mansion. Once he was done, he faced himself in the huge mirror suspended over the sink as he washed his hands, remembering, with blushing cheeks, the last time he'd been in the room, and looked in that same mirror, picturing Shannon and he having sex as they both watched. It had been a terrible mistreatment of Franks' hospitality he knew, but he'd not been able to prevent it, she positively _owned_ him, heart, mind and soul.

After the meal, Frank approached him asking if it was okay if he introduced Boone to the satiated crowd. There'd been so many guests stopping by their table with compliments, he wanted to be sure that Boone got the recognition he deserved. Of course, Boone didn't want to be singled out, but he acquiesced anyway, he'd been on the receiving end of Shannon's riot act about the importance of self-promotion before.

He was standing in another one of the prep tents, putting his knives away carefully in their foam-lined case, when a voice right beside his ear scared the shit out of him. He'd been so focused on the task at hand that he hadn't heard anyone approach. He turned quickly, his chef's knife still gripped tightly in his hand.

It was the guy who'd been watching him all night. He'd found several reasons to approach Boone and speak to him over the course of the evening, and Boone had even noted that he'd changed his seat so he had an unobstructed view of the barbecue area. He'd tried to catch Boone's eye several times, successfully on a number of occasions, but there was something about him that gave Boone the creeps.

"Whoa, I didn't mean to scare you," he jumped back at being unintentionally threatened with the eight inch blade, "I just wanted to say again how good the dinner was."

"Thanks, _again_," Boone stressed the last word, hoping the guy got the hint.

"No problem, I wondered what you were doing after the reception?" He asked.

"Uh, going home," the answer obvious, Boone thought. What did they guy expect he'd do at two in the morning…go bowling?

"So nothing then? How about a drink?" He leaned against the table with one arm, getting even more up in Boone's space.

"I don't drink, at least not very often, and certainly not tonight." Boone supplied.

"Coffee then?" He leaned even closer, reaching out and catching the hem of Boone's chefs' coat, working the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

"No," Boone frowned, clueless as usual, though he kept the knife protectively between them, the guy was at least six foot two and had more than a hundred pounds on Boone. "I'm going home to bed, it's been a long day, and my wife will be expecting me."

"It's late won't she be asleep?" His hand moved from the coat, to Boone's hip.

Boone's eyebrows furrowed as he looked uncomfortably down at the hand. "Probably," once again, two in the morning, did the guy think Shan would be mowing the lawn?

"Then she won't know if you're not back." He pointed out, moving the hand that was on Boone's hip to the table top, trapping Boone between his arms, and moving even closer.

"I'm not gay!" He suddenly cried, finally getting it.

"Pretty boy like you, you're at least bi, aren't you?" He leaned in as if to kiss him, Boone whimpered and jerked his head out of the way; pressing the hilt of the knife into the guys' chest, reminding him that he was armed, though there was no way he was going to stab someone to death again. What a way to ruin a wedding, anyway, though at least it would be memorable!

"NO!" He used all his strength and pushed the guy away from him. "Fuck, buddy! You could be the hottest girl in the world, throwing yourself at me, just the way you are, and there's not a fucking chance that I'd bite, even if I _was_ the straying kind. If my wife ever figured out that I'd been unfaithful, she'd probably stab us both to death with a butter knife!"

"Butter knife?" What a strange choice of weapon.

"It would take longer that way." Boone explained, "She'd want both of us to suffer."

"Boone is everything…? Bill?" Frank pushed the flap of the tent open and entered, he'd picked up on Boone's panic. He stopped short at the scene with which he was greeted. "Bill, please don't tell me you're trying to pick up my chef."

"I'm trying, but I'm not getting very far," the man answered.

"No, I wouldn't think that you would, seeing as he's not gay, and besides which, if you'd _ever _seen his wife, you'd know you had less than a snowballs' chance in hell." Frank chuckled.

"Pretty?" Bill asked.

"Gorgeous! And more to the point, if you _knew_ her you'd be putting as much distance between yourself and her husband as you could. She'd probably kill you with a glance if she knew you were trying to make time with her man, she's quite…_feisty._" He tried to put it as diplomatically as he could.

"He said pretty much the same thing," Bill jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Boone. "I sure don't know how to pick 'em."

"No you don't," Frank patted him on the shoulder as Bill passed him on his way out of the tent, finally giving up with one last glance and a regretful shrug in Boone's direction.

"Thanks," Boone put the knife down. "I was getting a little frantic."

"Yeah, I could feel that. Sorry I didn't intervene sooner, but the photographer was taking pictures again, and sorry about Bill too. He's a nice guy, but when he's between boyfriends, well…he can be a little overly pushy." Frank apologized. "If you're done here, would you like to join us for a drink?"

Boone pled fatigue, but thanked him for the offer. Leaving the rest of the clean up to his staff, he was on his motorcycle and heading for home less than ten minutes later.

Boone slipped into bed beside Shannon as gently as he was able, thinking her asleep, but she rolled over and shook out her pale hair as she raised herself up on an elbow, having been awoken by the blare of the motorcycle as he pulled into the driveway. Knowing how loud it was, he'd killed the engine as quickly as he could.

"A gay guy again?" Shannon's teeth flashed in the light from the uncurtained window, as she chuckled, having already picked that particular detail out of his head. That he was still mulling over the incident in his mind, made it easier for her.

"Yeah." Boone whispered, rolling to face her.

'You're far too pretty for your own good, you know.' Shannon observed, silently.

'Perhaps I should have an unfortunate chain saw accident, and change that?' He quipped.

'That _would_ be unfortunate, for both of us.' She reached out and traced her fingertips over his perfect features, leaning in to kiss him. 'Maybe just a little reminder of just how heterosexual you are instead?' She pulled away from him and got out of bed, crossing the room to the door, she beckoned him.

He pushed back the covers and rose, 'What about Andrew?'

Shannon tipped her head, her eyes losing focus for a second, 'Asleep.'

Naked, as she was, he followed her down the back stairs and out to the yard.

She twined her fingers in his hair as they kissed. 'Love me.' She commanded; it wasn't a question of his feelings for her as much as an order.

'Forever,' Boone responded, answering both the demand and the unintended question.

Shannon pulled away, and growled at him, "Hard, I want it rough."

"I can do rough," he fisted her hair and pulled her head back, nipping at her exposed throat. Thrusting her forcefully against the bark of a tree, he bit down hard on her collarbone.

Somehow, their ensuing cries didn't wake Andrew.


	21. Chapter 21

They were sitting naked at the kitchen table, Boone had a piece of ice wrapped in a clean dish towel pressed to his lip, Shannon a similarly wrapped piece pressed to the lobe of her right ear.

'You shouldn't have bitten me so hard,' she scolded.

'You head butted me first!' he protested in response. He'd already cleaned all the blood off her shoulder blade; his split lip had bled profusely.

He'd been pressed against her back; they'd been kneeling on the grass at the foot of one of the lawn chairs. Her forearms were rested on the webbing, her hands grasped the steel tubes of the sides; he was buried deep within her, one of his hands between her legs, the other at her breast. He must have squeezed too hard, because her head snapped back catching him full in the mouth. He then had craned his neck so that he could bite at her ear, his orgasm catching him unaware, his teeth had clamped down far harder than he'd intended; Shannon had climaxed with him, their pain mixing with the pleasure.

They each nursed their respective wounds, eventually Shannon started laughing at the absurdity of the situation, Boone quickly joining in. 'Maybe we shouldn't do it rough?'

'Well, perhaps just not this rough!' He suggested, laughing too hard to actually try and choke the words out. A scratch on his shoulder started to seep blood again as he shook.

How Shannon perceived it over the sounds of their combined mirth, she wasn't sure, maybe it was because she was sitting closer to the stairs than he was, but she very clearly heard Andrew's bedroom door open, the stamp of his feet telegraphing his annoyance. She bolted for the bathroom, not having any other alternative to having him see her sitting there naked. It wasn't that she cared so much about the naked part, he'd seen her unclothed before, it was that if she looked as bad as Boone, and she was fairly sure she did, she didn't want him to think they'd been in some cat fight with each other, though the alternative was equally as strange.

Boone watched her ass as she fled across the room, no idea why she was running, until he heard the thud of footfalls descending the stairs. He had no choice but to sit there, appearing ridiculous, the ice still pressed to his very swollen lip.

"_Do you guys mind! It's three a.m.!"_ Andrew started giving them shit through clenched teeth before he cleared the landing, stopping at the sight of a bloodied and shirtless Boone sitting alone, looking like he'd been in a bar brawl. Knowing that he'd heard his mom too, and seeing the abandoned piece of fabric covered ice on the table in front of the pushed out chair, he leaned down to confirm his suspicion, his dad was pantless too. "Could you guys _be _any weirder?"

When the extremely sheepish Boone looked like he was going to answer the rhetorical question, Andrew held up his hands to stop him, "I don't want to know! Just keep it down, please?" He turned and started back up the stairs, muttering just loudly enough for Boone to hear. "Why I'm not psychologically damaged by your strange sex practices, I surely don't know." Boone heard the bedroom door slam.

Andrew's actual formal sexed in school had been an interesting, though extremely short lived, experience. He already knew everything the teacher, a young and perpetually embarrassed young woman, explained. Boone, ever the patient and willing tutor, had sat him down and gone over everything in exacting detail, shortly after Shannon had returned. Knowing that they'd rapidly fall back into their former highly active sex pattern, he thought it best if Andrew had all the proper facts.

A few weeks into the course, the woman had raised the subject of their parents having sex. Most of the classes had either tittered nervously or made gagging sounds; Andrew had just exploded with laughter.

She'd asked him about his unique reaction, "Is it that difficult to imagine them having sex?"

"No, it's difficult to imagine them _not _having sex!" He'd replied, the suspicions cast by his answer of course prompting a call to his house.

Luckily for the teacher, she'd gotten Boone on the phone, at least at first. She hesitantly explained the reason for her call.

"No, of course we don't let him watch us! Jesus! What kind of people do you think we are?" Boone had protested, indignantly. The fact that Andrew _had _caught them on occasion was inevitable, given the frequency of their encounters and their penchant for al fresco sex, but it had always been by accident, and the boy had always stopped immediately, mostly out of respect for their privacy, he was as naturally curious as any child.

"Well, obviously Mr. Carlyle, I don't know. That's why I had to call. I could have reported it to the authorities, but I wanted to save you, and Andrew, the embarrassment."

"Look, my wife and I have what we consider normal sexual relations, sometimes in our bedroom, with the door closed, or sometimes somewhere…" Boone started.

Unfortunately for the teacher, that was when Shannon had come in and overheard what he was saying. She snatched the phone out of his hand. "What the fuck? Who the hell are you talking to?" She pressed the receiver to her ear. "Who the hell _is_ this?" she demanded loudly. "Why the fuck is my idiot husband talking about our sex lives?"

Andrew, sitting in a chair by the teachers' side, knew exactly when his mom had gotten on the phone. Not only did the young woman blanche, she also pulled the receiver away from her ear rather rapidly. Andrew smiled secretly and unabashedly listened in on both sides of the ensuing trademark Shannon Rutherford rant, which ramped up into full gear once the teacher had re-explained the nature of the call.

Highly chastised, the situation clearly and graphically explained, (Yeah, my husband and I have sex, have you _seen_ the guy? Maybe we're too loud sometimes, should I get the kid some earplugs?) the woman slowly and carefully replaced the receiver on the cradle several minutes later. The last thing Andrew overheard was his mom shouting for her to mind her own damned business. She turned to him with a sickly and forced look on her face, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she struggled for something to say.

He took a deep breath and launched into the speech he'd prepared. "So you talked to my mom, huh?" She just nodded. "And everything's okay now?" She nodded again. "So I was thinking Ms. Addison, that maybe you agree I don't _really_ need to take your class anymore, do I? I mean I've already read the whole textbook, cover to cover, and my dad's explained everything to me too. And, you know, maybe I'm too young for the curriculum." Andrew was several years younger than anyone else in his class, his rapid advancement though school had continued unabated.

Having observed the boy for the past month, and just now speaking to his parents, in particular dreading ever having to talk to his mother again, she'd already come to somewhat the same conclusion about his enrolment in her class. "No, Andrew, if anything, I think maybe you're too old." She'd replied, finally finding her voice again.

He'd been transferred to grade seven English the next day.

It was just after lunch, Boone was sprawled at Shannon's side, his head in her lap; they were on a blanket that he'd spread out on the back lawn, having wanted to have a picnic. His right leg was thrown over her shins, his hand on her far hip; she was playing with his hair as he slept. He'd gotten up at 8:15 the same time as they had, but unlike them, he'd only had four hours of sleep. During the meal, Andrew had regarded their easy familiarity with a smile as they joked with each other, and recalled again that his mom and dad had spent almost their entire lives together, with separations of a few years sprinkled here and there.

After lunch, he'd gone inside to use the phone, helping Boone carry some of the lunch dishes into the kitchen.

'Mom?' Andrew asked, returning to the back yard after finishing his call, startled at the unfamiliar form of address he'd inadvertently used. He'd just gotten off the phone with one of his friends, who had referred to his own mother repeatedly, naturally calling her mom.

"Huh?" So surprised, she actually grunted out loud, he'd really caught her off guard.

'Sorry Shan,' he apologized.

'Mom, huh?' She smiled at him. 'I could get used to Mom.'

'You really aren't much of a Mom though, I didn't mean to say it.' He shrugged uncomfortably.

She looked disappointed. 'Oh'

He knelt beside her on the grass. 'And anyway, anyone can be a Mom. You're the only Shannon I'm ever going to have.'

'You sure as hell are Boone's son aren't you?' She reached out and cupped his cheek. 'What a charmer! The girls better be on double alert around you.'

He dipped his head, embarrassed, and shrugged, 'I don't much like girls yet.' After his experimental kiss with Amy back in March, he'd seemed to lose interest again. It was difficult for him though, seeing as most of the kids he went to school with, like Paul, were older and _were_ starting to develop a healthy interest in the opposite sex.

'You will, baby, you will, and they'll like you even more.' She warned.

'Maybe,' he shrugged again. "I'm going to Kevin's, kay?' he said pushing himself to his feet. It had been Kevin whom he'd been speaking to on the phone.

'Be back before seven, Boone said he wanted to talk to us before dinner, and I think he's making your favourite for supper,Pasta Puttanesca.'

'Mmmmm, could you ask him for extra…' His mouth was already watering at the thought.

'Capers…" she finished. 'Got it covered for you, besides I think he knows how you like it,' she said with a laugh.

He kissed her quickly, and left the yard.

It was actually school that Boone convened the family meeting about. His lip was still swollen and painful, and Shannon was wearing her hair hanging straight down, instead of tucked behind her ears as usual. Andrew had been thinking all day that they were a bit overdressed for the warm Southern California July weather with long sleeves and jeans, but he figured what the heck, at least he was cool and comfy in a tank and board shorts.

His parents were both rueing the fact that they'd gotten so carried away the night before, actually the early morning of that day, letting a simple request on Shannon's part turn into a sexual game of one up man-ship as they vied to out do each other, their natural sibling rivalry suddenly making an unexpected reappearance. The marks reminding them of their over zealousness would remain for several days.

They sipped at their iced tea in the shade of one of the trees out back, Boone more carefully that the other two, occasionally dripping a bit of his beverage down his front as he negotiated his fat lip with the glass, rather spoiling the air of authority he'd really wanted to convey.

'I've been thinking about Andrews' schooling,' he started, thankful that he didn't have to actually speak. 'Now, this is just a suggestion, it'd require quite a sacrifice on your part, bud, and you don't have to agree to it, but what if you took summer school? You've already got a couple of grade seven classes done, if you took a few more this summer, you could finish seven and eight next year and get to high school a whole year early.'

"Yes!" the other two blurted immediately.

'Uhm, I was kind of expecting a bit of a discussion.' Boone frowned at them.

'We've already discussed it.' They admitted, sharing a glance.

'I told him you wouldn't let them advance him again because of his age.' Shannon said.

'But we were going to approach you again after my tenth birthday.' Andrew added.

'You guys are conspiring behind my back?' Boone actually found it very heartening that they had bonded so thoroughly that they were discussing things like that on their own.

'Well we…Hey wait!' She looked at him suspiciously. 'You were _dead_ set against it, why the change of heart?'

Boone cleared his throat, though he wasn't actually talking, it was a natural reaction as a time buying tool. 'The school called last week,' he confessed, after a few awkward moments. Andrew's special case had necessitated that he have several conversations with Mr. Thompson, the principal, each year. Even though Shannon had returned, the man was accustomed to dealing with Boone, and always phoned the boys' father when he felt that adjustments had to be made to Andrews' course load. 'It was actually their suggestion.'

'And you didn't tell me about it why exactly?' Shannon asked with an edge to her tone, they _chose_ to include Andrew in their decisions, but it was her right as one of his parents to have been privy to the call. 'Now who's conspiring?'

'I'm sorry Shan. I needed to think about it first. I needed to decide if _I_ was okay with it. I just…I needed to mull it over myself. I'm so _scared_ about him growing up too fast.' Boone looked particularly miserable, his brows knitted together as he bit at the undamaged part of his lip.

"You're doing it again Boone; you're making decisions that affect all three of us without involving Andrew and me." She warned, changing the discussion to a verbal one.

"No, I'm not! I'm telling you all about it. Even if I'd decided 'no' I was still going to tell you!" He protested, wincing slightly and brushing his fingers over his injury.

"Still, you should have said something right away, hon." He was so contrite; she couldn't keep the edge on her anger.

"You know how I need to work through things. I just needed time with the idea by myself first. Sorry, Shan, you know that's just the way I am." He apologized again with the added proviso.

"Yeah, that's true. You're so damn predictable." She allowed.

"What about our motorcycle trip?" Andrew asked, figuring their minor tiff was over. "I still want to go to Napa."

"We'll work around it." Boone assured him, still all bound up by the idea that if Andrew _started_ high school a year early, he'd also _finish _a year early too. How could he send a fifteen year old away to university? How could he ever send Andrew away at all, no matter what his age?

"You were only sixteen Boone," Shannon reminded him, picking up on his concern, choosing to just address the age issue. She knew it was going to be hell on all three of them when the time finally came for Andrew to leave home, their bond so much more than that of the usual family. She knew what hell it had been when she'd left, the bare and resonating echoing emptiness in her head, the crushing downward spiral that had gripped Boone almost taking him from her forever She shrugged it off, refocusing on the current conversation, leaving the past in the past, though she could only imagine with a barely suppressed shudder how hard Boone was going to crash when his only child walked out the front door to start his own life.

"But I went to USC my first year, and still lived at home. There are no universities around here!" He pointed out needlessly. Even Sabrina had been concerned about sending a relatively sheltered and naive Boone across the country to live in New York by himself at such a young age.

"Boone, that's still five years away, why don't we worry about it then?" Andrew asked.

"Because I'm a planner, I think long term. Jeeze, what are you guys, new, that I have to remind you what I'm like? That's twice now." He rolled his eyes.

They finished the discussion in the kitchen, while Boone made supper, coming to the unanimous decision that Andrew would start summer school the next day.


	22. Chapter 22

The call came mid-week. To ensure that she reached her son and didn't run the risk of having Shannon answer the phone, Sabrina called Boone's cell instead of the house. She knew she'd have a better chance of getting a 'yes' out of him than the almost certain 'no' she would have received from his wife.

"Boone Carlyle," he answered after snapping the phone open, not bothering to check the call display.

"I know very well whom I've called, Boone." Sabrina characteristically went directly to chastising him instead of returning the greeting. Not a good start when she was about to make a request of him.

Boone sighed and pressed his palm to his forehead, mouthing 'shit' though his teeth. "Hello to you too mother."

She ignored his sarcasm, and got straight to the point, inviting the three of them to a small party on Saturday. Boone declined immediately not understanding why she'd think he'd want to drive all the way into the city just to spend an afternoon with the plastic and snobbish people she deemed her friends. He'd dreaded the command performances she'd demanded from him while Shannon was gone; thankfully they'd stopped on her return. He'd always had a feeling however, that his luck was going to run out one day, and apparently today was that day. Given that Shannon's return a year prior had added yet another chapter to their highly colourful past, he was sure that nothing good would come from exposing themselves to people who wallowed in gossip and were highly judgemental.

"Boone, dear, it's only going to be a few people, just a garden party, very casual, and you can stay the night." There was no tone of pleading in her voice yet, just a simple statement of facts. Sabrina never gave up that easily, though once again he said no.

"It will be a great opportunity for you to promote the business, there will be some very influential people there," Sabrina was starting to get a little annoyed, no one, not even her own son, was permitted to turn her down this many times.

Boone pointed out that they didn't want to do any catering in the city, so what was the point? Sabrina replied that many of the people had country houses and friends with country houses. "And the Jackson's will be here," she slipped in.

"Oh?" Boone was already coming to the realization that he didn't have a snowballs' chance in hell of getting off the phone without agreeing to go.

"Boone, please come," she paused, like a predator with its' prey, she'd sensed him weakening and had added a slight hint of need to her words, closing in for the kill.

Sabrina hesitated at revealing the real reason she wanted them there, desiring to maintain her cold facade and not let the small crack that had wedged itself open almost ten years prior show. She knew that if she told him the truth though, he'd most likely capitulate fairly easily. She played her trump card and told him the motive behind her invitation. "I didn't get to see Andrew on his birthday, you didn't invite me to his party."

"I didn't really think you'd enjoy foosball and video games, mother." Boone pointed out, grinning to himself as he conjured a mental image of Sabrina playing an arcade game with one of Andrews' friends.

"No, I'm sure I wouldn't have," Sabrina actually laughed a bit herself, "Still, you could have invited me for dinner, but you didn't," she threw a bit of guilt into the equation, certain that she'd just guaranteed his acceptance, "so I'd really like to see him this weekend."

Boone immediately felt bad, just as he knew that she knew he would. "Alright," he agreed, begrudgingly. "Just let me check with Shan."

"Why?" She asked sharply, if there was anyone who could get him to change his mind it was Shannon.

"Well, other than the fact that she's my _wife_, as you just pointed out we have a business. She might have me booked to work this Saturday." Boone rang off, promising to call her back to confirm.

Shannon was not impressed, and Andrew even less so, though both reluctantly admitted that they had nothing specific planned for the weekend, Shannon confirmed that Boone's schedule was clear as well. Still, they both glared at him in the car as he sped west on the highway that Saturday, Andrews' eyes meeting his in the rear view, Shannon turning to give him a flat stare every few miles.

"She guilted me into it," Boone apologized for the umpteenth time.

By the time they reached the estate they'd all agreed to make the best of it, after all Boone pointed out, Sabrina really _did _want to see her grandson, so you couldn't fault her for that.

Mrs. Simpson greeted them warmly, kissing each; then shooing them upstairs so they could get settled in their rooms and freshen up. The party, she told them, was in full swing in the back yard, most of the guests having already arrived. Sabrina had come to the house twice so far to see if they'd gotten there yet, so they'd be doing her a favour if they got out there sooner rather than later and prevented a third assault.

Sabrina spied them as they crossed the lawn, beckoning them over imperiously and excusing herself from the conversation she was having with a grey haired man whose upper lip sprouted a truly frightening moustache that would have been more fitting on a walrus. Andrew gazed at it in fascination, following the man with a turn of his head as he moved on to another group of partygoers. Boone tugged on his arm to bring his attention back to his grandmother and stop him from staring so rudely.

After kissing each one of them, even Shannon, Sabrina started on Andrew with the grandmotherly observations. "You've grown so much!" At 5'2" he came to just past Boone's shoulder, his final growth spurt wouldn't come for a few years yet. "Your hair's too long." She brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

Andrew batted her hand away, "Sabrina, _please_?" he protested. In keeping with his usual pattern, he'd always called her by her first name, his teachers the only adults that fell outside those parameters; he even called Mrs. Simpson Karen, something Boone would never have done. Sabrina actually preferred it, not wanting to be reminded that she was a grandmother, besides she thought it sounded very sophisticated.

"Did you get my birthday gift?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's great!" Andrew enthused sincerely. On her employers' behalf, Mrs. Simpson had sent him a three-dimensional wooden jigsaw puzzle of a brachiosaurus, enclosing Sabrina's hand signed gift card with the parcel. Fully assembled the completed puzzle stood over three feet tall, he'd taken almost a week to complete it. There were threaded rods that slid into holes pre-drilled in key places to hold it together for display purposes. Shocking both of her guys, Shannon produced the perfect sized antique wooden spool holder from the attic, on which the model of the extinct creature now stood proudly in one corner of his bedroom. They'd both wondered when the hell, and why, she'd explored the stuffy expanse under the eaves.

Claiming Andrew for her escort, and explaining that she wanted to introduce Boone's gorgeous son to her friends, Sabrina firmly gripped his upper arm and directed him away from his parents.

He spent the next half hour squiring her from group to group, being introduced to people whose names he promptly forgot, keeping his mind carefully shielded from reading their thoughts. Boone had warned him in the car that he might not like what he found if he intruded on their catty musings. As he met the measured stare of several of them while they sized him up, he conceded that his dad certainly knew what he was talking about.

Frank had approached them as soon as Sabrina swept off with her young gentleman on her arm, not wanting to intrude on the family reunion. After a few minutes of conversation, Shannon left to get the two of them drinks, Frank already had a cocktail in his hand. She returned with wine for herself and a club soda for Boone, a small plate with some snacks for him balanced on the top of his glass. He accepted both with an appreciative smile, he'd become more used to the small gestures his wife and son made in their attempt to be more mindful of him.

They were each aware of the glances that were thrown their way, the whispered exchanges, shakes of the head, or controlled derisive laughter that often followed the scrutiny. A few snatches of the more vitriolic thoughts permeated each of their consciousness randomly, their eyes flicking automatically in the direction from which the thought had originated, seeking out the source. Realizing the reason for their distracted behaviour, Frank did his best to keep them focused, finally suggesting the same to the two of them as Boone had to Andrew. Once they'd shielded their minds as well, the tension mostly dissipated from the pair, though they still caught the occasional shift of someone's eyes in their directions.

Pointing out a trio of boys about his own age at the edge of the gathering, Andrew finally pried himself away from his grandmother, using them as an excuse. He made his way over and introduced himself a bit shyly.

It wasn't unintentionally intercepted thoughts, but actual spoken words that proved to be his undoing. Children can be cruel, and none more so than those of parents who view themselves as above others and imprint that impression of superiority on their offspring by freely sharing their opinions of those they consider beneath them.

"They are not! Your father knows from shit!" The fact that he'd become upset striking just before they heard his raised voice, Boone and Shannon had already turned from Frank and were headed in Andrews' direction. They saw him facing off against a boy at least half a head taller than him, Andrews' hands clenching and unclenching into fists by his sides as he fought not to punch the older kid. With effort he spun and walked towards them, his face a mask of misery and fury.

They met halfway, each parent putting a hand on one of his shoulders. "What happened?" Boone asked in a soothing tone.

Andrew shook his head and looked miserably at the ground, "I don't want to say." The other boys were now laughing behind his back, when Shannon shot them a glare that would have stopped a charging polar bear; they fell silent and turned their backs, shuffling their feet nervously.

Andrew replayed the words in his mind, unable to speak them aloud. Boone's shoulder slumped. "Bud, don't listen to them, okay. They don't know me, they don't know us; I don't even know who the kid or his father _are_."

Andrew raised his face, closer to tears now, "How can they say stuff like that?"

Shannon was just about to answer him when he caught sight of a man blatantly staring at them and shaking his head. In fact each of the four people, in the small group surrounding the guy, was watching them.

His guard down, he caught all of the man's thoughts in full, as well as those of most of the others. "I am _not_ a poor boy! And they aren't bad parents! You don't know us! You don't even know that your own wife's been watching that guy over there, wondering just when…"

Boone grabbed him and yanked him around hard, cutting him short. _"Andrew!" _

Boone looked at him in horrified astonishment, stunned that the boy had been about to reveal his ability. It was all Andrew had needed push him over the edge. He burst into tears and fled for the house.

Cursing himself for ever having agreed to come in the first place, the guilt already setting in, Boone ran after him.

Shannon stood there watching after them for a moment before following them at a much slower pace, thinking about the pieces she was going to have to pick up, hoping that this wasn't going to send Boone into another black hole.

Boone found him face down on Shannon's old bed sobbing broken-heartedly into the pillow. He rubbed the boy's shoulders, murmuring soothing words. Andrew flipped over and sat up, throwing his arms around Boone's neck, crying wetly against his shoulder. Boone held him and rocked back and forth, trying to calm him.

Shannon watched the two of them from the door then went to sit behind Boone, wrapping her arms around both of them.

"What's going on in here? Why did you cause that scene?" Sabrina's uncaring and demanding voice filled the room.

Shannon turned to her, Boone and Andrew ignoring her completely, she stood. "Apparently one of your 'friends' told his demon spawn exactly what he thought of us, something the little hellion was only too happy to share with your grandson."

"Pfft, they're only words. The boy needs to grow a thicker skin." She dismissed Shannon, and directed her next comment to the bed in a louder tone. "Boone, you're coddling that child. Stop it this instant."

Boone's head jerked around, his mouth hung open in astonishment at her lack of concern. A couple of strangled sounds escaped him as he searched for words to say. "You know what mother? Shut the fuck up! And mind your own goddamned business!"

As stupefied as Sabrina's expression was, Shannon's was almost as astonished, though hers' gave way to a smile as Sabrina's narrowed into anger. Shannon grabbed her arm and hustled her from the room before she could rail back at Boone. She pushed her into the hall and closed the bedroom door softly.

"How _dare_ he?" She tried to push past Shannon and get back into the room. She was no match for the younger woman, especially given the superior physical shape that Shannon was in due to the amount of exercise Boone insisted they all get.

"I'll tell you how he dares. You want to know what the little puke said to Andrew?" Shannon got right up in her step-monster-in-laws face. "He said his father told him that I was a whore, and that Boone was a pussy whipped asshole. He said I was a gold digging bitch and that Boone was a pathetic idiot. He said it was too bad Boone hadn't successfully killed himself and that I came back because, in his opinion, Andrew would have been better off as an orphan." She found her own hands curling into fists as she spat into Sabrina's face. She forced her fingers straight again and, with difficulty, got her breathing back under control. "We're leaving. Once I get them both calmed down we're out of here. And if I have my way we won't ever come back to this place again."

As shocked as Sabrina had been at what Shannon had recounted, some of it wasn't far off her own darkest thoughts. Shannon's threat however, shook her to her core. "You leave here, and never come back, I'm never sending work your way again."

"My men, the two people who mean more to me than anything in the world, are behind that door absolutely devastated, and you threaten me with _business?"_ Shannon was dumbfounded. "Jesus Christ Sabrina! Get your fucking head out of your ass!" With a shake of her head she let herself back into the bedroom.

Sabrina became aware of movement at the door to Boone's room, directly across the hall.

Mrs. Simpson was standing there watching her, a supply of clean towels in her arms. She'd overheard everything, smiling proudly when Boone had told his mother off. "You want any help with that?"

"What?"

"Getting your head out of your ass," she explained calmly.

"You're fired!"

"Second time this month, I'm on a roll," Mrs. Simpson turned from the door and went back to what she was doing, leaving Sabrina standing alone in the hall, wondering just when she'd lost control of her own household.

They were back in the car and on their way home barely two hours after arriving. Andrew was asleep in the back seat; his surge of emotions had completely worn him down.

Shannon was driving; Boone was almost equally as drained as his son, and was continuing to berate himself silently, the spiral of guilt dragging him down.

'Boone you couldn't have known.' She assured him again.

'But I did, don't you see, I _knew_ something was going to happen.' He wouldn't meet her gaze, his head was turned firmly to the side window; his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

'At least you got to tell your mother off.' Shannon pointed out.

'I really don't think that it was worth getting Andrew so upset just so I could get to tell my mother to fuck off.' He drew a shaky breath.

'Actually Boone, you told her to shut the fuck up.' She corrected.

'That's not funny, Shan.' His shoulders started to shake as his own tears began. There was little she could do for him while she was driving, all she wanted at that moment was to get them home and put them to bed.

They were both a little better the next day, Andrew more so than Boone, kids bounced back, but Boone's problems were chronic. He still gamely made it a point to speak to the boy about his lapse in judgement of the day before.

'What were you thinking?' Boone asked when the two of them were seated in the den.

'I wasn't thinking. I was just mad.' Andrew explained.

'Mad or not, you can't _do_ that!' Boone's fear was almost palpable.

"I know that! I'm sorry!" Andrew was getting upset, dragging Boone in with him, the Catch 22, starting all over again.

"Buddy, please, you have to stop and _think_. If they took you from me, I don't know what I'd do." Images from Firestarter played through his head.

"Boone, you've made me watch that stupid movie at least a dozen times! I _know_ what can happen, and I'm sorry! I'm just a kid and I was mad. Please? When was the last time I did something like that?" Andrew already knew the answer was 'never.'

Sensing Boone's increasing agitation Shannon appeared in the doorway. "Hey guys, what gives?"

Boone took a deep calming breath, "We were just talking about yesterday."

"And you've just _finished_ talking about yesterday," she informed him. "You, my dear, are going to get some exercise. Dr. Rutherford prescribes an hour in the stationary pool, flow set at max. You need to get some of those endorphins into your system." She held her hand out for him and pulled him to his feet. Turning him towards the door, she gave him a little push.

They watched while he exited. Shannon turned to the boy. "That was really stupid, you know, what you did." She stated in an ordinary tone, much as if she was commenting on a nice wallpapering job.

"I know." He admitted, his mood changing from upset to sheepish, just as she'd intended.

'One down, one to go,' she thought to herself, hoping Boone's exercise would up it to two for two.

"So just what _was_ that woman wondering about that guy?" She asked with a sly grin.

Boone's mood was decidedly better after his swim, and improved even more after he got a call from his mother later that day when she phoned to apologize. Stunned to complete physical and verbal immobility, he simply stood there with the phone still pressed to his ear, his mouth hanging open; the dial tone buzzing loudly from the disconnected line.

Shannon took the receiver from his hand and settled it in its cradle while he crossed to the window and looked at the sky positive that he'd see a rain of Persians and Pekinese falling to the ground.

He was certain that hell must have frozen over, pigs must have sprouted wings, and it must be raining cats and dogs. If the day had finally come that Sabrina Carlyle had actually accepted the blame for something and _apologized for it_, then every single cliché ever coined must truly have become reality.


	23. Chapter 23

They later blamed the incident on the fact that neither his parents nor Andrew expected the other to be home. Boone and Shannon had told Andrew that they were going to the office for the afternoon, and he'd told them that he was going to Peter's until dinner. He had no reason whatsoever to sense them out, something he was always careful to do before entering the house with one of his friends. As he'd explained to Aaron at Christmas, he didn't like inviting his friends over unannounced because he never knew exactly what his folks would be up to, or in what compromising situation they might find them.

So it was without a second though that Andrew pushed the door to the kitchen open and entered, his friend Peter directly behind him, the scene that met Andrew's eyes momentarily hidden from the older boy.

Andrew came to a halt, drawing a sharp intake of breath, Peter ran into his back then stepped around him, ready to snap on him, but stopped at what he saw.

Shannon had Boone bent backwards on top of the kitchen table, his heels actually right off the floor as he lay on the wooden surface. They were kissing passionately, Boone's hands up under the back of her t-shirt, her hands pinning his shoulders to the wooden surface.

"Holy shit!" The much older boy blurted out. With Andrew advancing so quickly through school, most of his friends were several years older than he was.

The two on the table stopped immediately, startled, so wrapped up in each other they hadn't heard the boys enter, both their heads jerked towards the sound.

Shannon pulled back slowly as Boone struggled frantically to rise, his face almost fuchsia in embarrassment, Shannon, of course, was cool as a cucumber. She held out her hand to help him up as he slid off the table to his feet.

Andrew wasn't sure if he was more pissed off or embarrassed and couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or yell at them. He wouldn't have thought twice about their behaviour if he'd been alone, he'd certainly caught them in far more compromising positions than kissing on the kitchen table, it was the fact that his friend had seen them too. He supposed it could have been worse; they could have been naked, anything was possible with his parents, he knew.

Boone's next words made him realize that he was mad at them for something they had no of way of knowing – that he was even home, or that he had a friend with him.

"We, uh, that is, um, you said you'd be gone until supper. We weren't, uh, expecting you until then, and, uh, not Peter either. Sorry," he stammered, gesturing at the table from which he'd just risen.

Shannon turned and walked to the fridge and started rifling around in it, she'd ceased being embarrassed by her actions when she was younger than Andrew, though she drew perverse pleasure from humiliating Boone whenever she could. That this was one of those occasions that this had happened without preplanning only made it sweeter, she grinned to herself in the cool interior of the appliance, kind of sorry that Andrew had been affected too, though she knew he could roll with it.

Andrew's anger was completely diffused by Boone's stuttered apology, but not his embarrassment though. He glanced at his friend who was grinning slyly, no doubt considering how much mileage he was going to get out of recounting this at school.

Andrew just shook his head in resignation and laughed a few times trying to diminish the impact of the situation. "Whatever," he shrugged, "I thought _you_ were going to the office.

"We decided it could wait until Monday." Boone looked back and forth between the two boys, still a bit nervous. "So, um, why _are_ you home?"

As Shannon came back from her foray into the depths of the fridge with a couple of bottles of water and handed one to her husband, Andrew explained that they'd scrapped their original plans and had decided to play a game on his computer in his room.

"Have fun," she shrugged. "Knock yourselves out."

The boys headed past her, Peter giving her an appreciative glance as he went up the stairs behind his friend.

She turned back to Boone, "Are we going to finish what we started?" She grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him towards her, trying to drag him towards the stairs.

"Shit no! The boys are home!" He wondered what the hell she was thinking.

"I'm hot and horny, Boone, you'd better take care of that." She stroked her fingers down his face and then grasped him through his jeans.

"How about the gym?" he suggested, gasping and pushing her hand firmly away from his crotch.

"On the rowing machine? You could be the coxswain." She wrinkled her nose in amusement at the word.

"God, what are you, like twelve? No fucking rowing machine, how would that even work anyway?" He frowned trying to wrap his mind around the logistics, then shook his head at the impossibility. He considered again, "The garage?" he suggested next.

"We've done the garage." She pointed out.

"I'm sorry for my lack of originality; there's only so many options, we don't live in Disneyland you know." He pointed out needlessly.

"Oooh, Pirates of the Caribbean, Johnny Depp! I would definitely do Johnny Depp, he's so hot!" She gave a bit of a fan girl squee adding a lascivious grin.

"Good lord, you are twelve! Anyway Shan, Pirates of the Caribbean was like seven years ago, I don't even know if they still have that ride, and I think you'd agree to have sex with the Roto Rooter man and still find it hot." He rolled his eyes, no trace of jealousy.

"You make baiting you, Boone, no fun at all," she pouted.

"Sorry, I guess I just know that you're mine." He grinned and wrinkled his nose in a perfect imitation of her.

"Asshat!"

"Bitch!"

"The garage?"

"Now!" Boone agreed grabbing her hand and pulling her for the door, snatching his car keys on the way past.

The confined space was stifling in the July California summer afternoon. The heat hit them like a fist and made them sluggish almost immediately. Boone crossed to his car and depressed the button on the remote key, the buttons all popped up and the red flashing security lights stopped winking.

He pulled her to him desperately, crushing his mouth against hers. "How can I still want you so badly?" He asked backing away for a second.

"You want me badly?" She licked her tongue across her lips seductively, "I can do bad…badly, I'm not so sure of."

"Just not roughly, we fucked that up pretty much." He reminded her.

"No biting," she confirmed. "Back seat?"

"No, front." He led her around to the passenger door and opened it. Finding a burst of energy, their clothes were stripped off in seconds, Boone was sure if the Guinness people kept records for such a thing, they would have won.

He pushed her into the seat and then manoeuvred himself to a kneeling position between her legs on the floor of the car. When he reached for her hips and pulled her to the edge of the seat, she propped her heels on the dashboard to either side of him. "We're crazy, you know that right?" He asked.

"Certifiable," she was already reaching for him.

It was slow and languid, the heat making them think of every movie ever set in the Louisiana bayou. Shannon moved rhythmically against him as he thrust into her. When it was done, Boone collapsed against her sweaty torso.

"You're going to go to sleep, aren't you?" She murmured. Sated and spent, she barely had the strength to form the words, having a hard time keeping her own eyes open.

She wasn't sure if someone could actually get half a syllable of 'no' out, but somehow Boone managed it before he was out cold.

In his dream state, Boone's torpid brain convinced him that there was a woodpecker striking against the siding of the house, the irritating noise gradually bringing him to wakefulness, the sound, however not ceasing. He raised his head groggily. Andrew was standing at the back of the car, tapping on the truck with his knuckles. Boone jerked to fully aware with a sharp intake of breath at the sight of his son, his eyes widening as he realized the position he was in. He glanced down, Shannon was still sound asleep, he pressed his chest against hers making sure than Andrew didn't get an eyeful of something Boone was sure he'd rather not see.

Andrew shrugged and grimaced in apology before turning away, 'Sorry, Boone, but I needed to ask you something, and you've been in here for over an hour, so...'

'What?' Boone responded, surprised so much time had passed and wondering what the hell could be important enough that Andrew would have chanced coming in the garage to begin with. The kid wasn't stupid; he would have known exactly what they were doing.

'Peter's mom called and invited me for supper, is it okay if I go?' Andrew stared fixedly at the wall of the garage, noticing randomly that according to the memo Boone had tacked beside the door the oil change for Shannon's car was scheduled for next week.

'Supper? You came in here to ask about supper?' It was so anti-climactic Boone breathed a little laugh. When Andrew nodded, Boone gave his permission, relaxing when then boy left. His relief was short lived however, when he realized that his legs were cramped up so badly that he couldn't even feel them, let alone move. He pushed himself up on his arms and woke Shannon.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she commented as she struggled to extricate herself from him and get out of the car.

She stood by the door and watched while he grabbed both sides of the seat and hoisted himself into it, twisting awkwardly to lie on his back, his legs flopping about uselessly.

"No more adventurous sex!" He declared, lifting his thighs with his hands and trying to shake some blood into his lower extremities.

"Spoilsport," Shannon huffed starting to think he was never going to be able get out of the automobile. "You in there permanently? Cause I can just imagine, once we trade it in, the car salesman trying to unload it as a resale. 'This is our 2011 model, folks, it comes complete with a manual transmission, a diesel engine, and a naked man in the passenger seat.' The women might like the added upgrade, Boone, but I think most of the guys might have a problem with _that_ degree of customization."

"I'm going to get out of the car Shan! Just help me get the circulation going back in my legs." Boone shifted sideways and hung his legs out the door. Shannon crouched and began to rub them vigorously.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He swore after a minute.

"What now?" she rolled her eyes.

"The feeling's starting to come back, fuck it hurts, help me up." Boone held his arms out. She grabbed his wrists and hauled him to his feet. He swayed a bit unsteadily, then staggered forward, unable to stop himself, pinning her against the hood of her car, parked beside his.

She squirmed out from under him, "Get the fuck off me!"

He grabbed for support, bracing his hands on the fender.

Shannon shook her head and walked away.

"Where are you going?" he cried.

"I'm just putting my clothes back on. If I have to call the paramedics to come and take you away, I don't really want to greet them in the nude." She reached down for her underwear and started to dress while he stamped his feet repeatedly, grimacing through the pins and needles shooting up from his calves.

"So do you think you can walk now?" She asked as she finished dressing, pulling her t-shirt over her head

"Yeah," he leaned cautiously away from her car and put his weight on his right leg, it seemed to hold. "Would you hand me my pants?"

"Nope, you can get them yourself; didn't you just say you can walk?" She headed for the exit.

"Hey, what happened to taking better care of me?" He asked.

"I think taking better care of you stops short of dressing you, Boone." She was almost to the door.

"I didn't want you to dress me, I just thought it wouldn't kill you to toss me my pants!" He was yelling at empty air, she'd already left the structure.

Grumbling to himself, he stepped a little more surely away from the support of the car and bent down to retrieve his clothes.


	24. Chapter 24

They pulled Andrew out of school in order to go on their planned motorcycle trip, but he was still taking his textbooks with him so as not to fall behind. Boone even got his son's teachers to e-mail him a list of the material the boy was supposed to cover during his absence. It wasn't that he didn't trust Andrew to do the work; it was just so that he had an idea what he might be expected to help him with if he needed it.

Boone had cleared his schedule as well, they'd scaled back on the events for that week, only booking as many as Kevin and the rest of the crew could handle.

The night before they were to leave, Shannon was awakened by the familiar and unwelcome ache in her gut. Sighing deeply, and silently cursing the timing to herself, she got out of bed and headed for the bathroom across the hall, reaching for the small box under the sink.

Once finished, she slipped gently back between the sheets, not wanting to wake Boone.

Though usually she could have jumped up and down on the bed like a naughty toddler and wouldn't have awoken him, tonight he groaned and rolled towards her.

"Shan?" he groaned again and pressed his forearm across his stomach. 'Shit, now? We're just going away.' He wasn't exactly surprised; he'd seen the numbers written on the calendar in the kitchen, like a count down to doomsday.

'Believe me, I'm not happy about it either, but there's not much I can do about it is there?' Shannon responded.

'God, I feel like crap, this is one of those times I hate having telepathy,' Boone whined as he shared her discomfort.

'At least you can shut it out, _I _can't. I'll feel better by tomorrow anyway, though we won't be having any vacation sex this trip, at least not the conventional kind, there's always other fun things to amuse ourselves with, though,' she added with a lopsided grin and a suggestively raised eyebrow.

'Hmm hmm,' He agreed. 'You know, before you left you used to be in agony for days at this time of the month I remember. I never really noticed that it's so much better now,' Boone said, thoughtfully.

'It got a _hell_ of a lot worse before it got any better,' Shannon told him, deciding that now was as good a time as any to tell him the rest, though that it was the day before vacation kind of sucked. Her luck with timing seemed to be on short supply tonight.

'What do you mean?' Boone frowned. 'What happened?'

She admitted that, in desperation, the pain more than she could endure actually driving her to the point of heaving, she'd ended up having surgery.

"You had surgery in Europe?" He blurted, his alarm evident, like most people he only trusted the medical care in his own country.

"Well, no, actually it was here." Shannon hesitantly admitted; her voice subdued, much lower than his, trying to calm him.

Boone was stunned, 'What?'

'Not, here, here,' Shannon clarified, meaning not California, 'but here in the States, yeah, in New York.'

'You had an operation right here in the States, you were in the same country as me, and you didn't call me? I would have come! I should have been there.' He looked so hurt, just as she'd known he would.

'And then what, Boone? Would you really have been able to walk away after?' He shook his head. 'It doesn't matter if you could anyway, I don't think I would have been able to let you go, even if you could have, and I wasn't ready to come back yet. It was easier this way. For us both.'

She should know, Boone thought ungraciously, Shannon was the master at taking the easy way out. 'I suppose you could look at it that way, but I wasn't given the choice though, was I?'

'Boone, it was minor anyway, just day surgery, and I was back on my feet in no time,' she assured him.

This time he nodded in understanding; it was a moot point anyway, there was nothing they could do about something that was in the past. He looked at her curiously, sensing that she still had hidden thoughts. 'There's more though, isn't there, something you're not telling me?'

Shannon admitted as much; then gently told him the other information she'd been given. That with slightly more invasive surgery the doctors thought she could probably conceive again once all the scar tissue had been cleared.

He simply gazed at her, the words registering but taking some time to sink in as he struggled to process the concept. They stared at each other across the hands breadth of space that separated then, each waiting for the other to blink.

Boone flinched first; his eye lashes fluttering several times. 'A baby? Another baby?' He rolled away from her and pushed himself out of the bed, going to stand at the window, wrapping his arms around himself. She'd come to understand it was what he did when he was mulling over issues of particularly significant importance.

His thoughts were chaotic, the shock and disbelief playing havoc with his brain. He didn't know what to do, his mind ricocheting like a madly out of control game of Pong. He found himself breathing raggedly, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

"Boone?" Shannon sat up and pulled herself up against the headboard.

"I don't…" He pressed a hand to his forehead; then ran it through his hair tugging on his bangs, his head a total mess. When they'd crashed on the island, he'd resigned himself to never realizing his dream of being a father; of showering the love and attention he'd never gotten himself on his own offspring. He'd always thought that four would be a good number, boys or girls, it didn't matter; he'd just wanted his own kids so badly. When Shannon had told him about their baby, he'd been ecstatic, forgetting and forgiving all the manipulative mind games she'd played on him, instantly loving her again. Then after Andrew had been born, Jack had broken the news that she probably couldn't have any more. By that time it hadn't mattered to him though, he had the woman he'd always loved, and the unexpected son he'd given up hope for. "Shit Shan!" He fought back the tears, wiping his eyes angrily; then dropping his hand to his waist again, hugging himself once more.

Did he even want to risk losing her in surgery, or in childbirth, as he once almost had?

'I don't think it's really that risky a procedure, Boone.' Shannon told him addressing his unspoken worry, easily picking his concern out of the crazy kaleidoscope of thoughts her reveal had caused. 'And we're not on the island anymore.'

He glanced quickly at her; then back out the window again. "Stay out of my head for a bit, Shan, please? I just need to be alone with my thoughts for a while."

She brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, just watching him at the window. From her perspective most of him was in shadow, the light of the moon falling across his side, turning his body into a series of angles and planes. He was all lean muscle, still a bit too thin for his height, but he was definitely beefier than he'd been at Christmas. As he shifted his stance, his butt flexed, the muscles bunching under the skin, making her smile in appreciation. She wouldn't have minded watching him stand there naked all night long, though she certainly appreciated it more when he was naked and in her bed.

Shannon gave him a few minutes then, curious; she ghosted her mind quickly over his, not sure if she was surprised when she gained free entry. She pulled back immediately; she'd half expected to find that he'd erected a shield, that he hadn't spoke volumes to her about his trust of her. She wasn't about to betray it. It was what she'd been wondering about anyway, she hadn't gone deep enough to get even a glimmer of his thoughts.

A baby, we could have another baby, he thought wildly, fighting for control. The tiny selfish part of him vied with his sanity as his world spun; I could hold another baby, my own, again! Boone forced himself to consider everything reasonably.

A baby. He was thirty-two, almost thirty-three, he knew people had kids at that age, but he'd come to grips with the fact that for him, it was over; did he really want to go through all the bullshit again? But still, a tiny little life, cradled in his arms, maybe this time a girl with his dark hair and Shannon's eyes? He could almost picture her.

Perhaps if they'd found this out when they were first rescued, but now? They'd taken Jack's diagnosis as engraved in stone, it hadn't occurred to them to question it, or ask for a second opinion once they were back in civilization. Boone didn't hold it against the doctor, after all, he'd told them when they were still in the wild; the surgery Shannon had just described would have been out of the question.

They were a different family though, more so than almost anyone could have imagined. There was no reason to suspect that their possible child would have any special gift at all. How much of an outsider would he/she feel, being shut out of the intensity of their lives inside each other's minds? After all, Jessica couldn't sense dead people and Sarah wasn't psychic. Still each of them only had one _special_ parent, this baby would have two. But would he love it any less if it were…what had Claire called it, a Muggle? Would he feel sorry for it?

Andrew was ten, and very much the focus of Boone's attention. He'd been through hell and high water with his dad, how would he feel about suddenly having to share not just the spotlight, but Boone as well? He'd been pretty good, better than that actually, at accepting Shannon, but a sibling? He'd never known anything but being an only child. Boone remembered how much his own life had been enriched when Shannon had become his sister. Was it fair to deny Andrew the same opportunity?

If she had the surgery now, there would still be a recovery period before they tried again. Andrew was obvious proof that he could impregnate her, but it would still be at minimum a year or more before she actually gave birth. She'd been testy enough pregnant at twenty, how much worse would it be when she was thirty-two? Was he really ready to deal with her? He knew well enough that he was pretty fragile psychologically. He could just picture the role reversal, polar opposite from a regular couple, himself in tears after she'd snapped on his ass, hugely swollen and administering to him, trying to cajole him out of yet another funk. He grimaced at the mental image and cursed himself for the broken man that he still was, but would a new baby somehow let him find himself again?

He'd managed to spin himself into frenzy as each argument in favour brought about an equal argument against, becoming more worked up by the minute. The turmoil all in his head, he'd remained for the most part motionless, as he'd stared unseeingly down at the ground.

Not getting anywhere except further depressed at his inability to form a decisive opinion, he turned from the window. Shannon was sitting on the bed watching him quietly, trying to imagine what he was thinking, respecting his privacy.

The sight of her broke down his defences completely, "I don't know! I don't know what to think! Shan, damn." He started sobbing in frustration.

She was at his side in an instant, drawing him against her. "Ssshhh, baby. It's okay Boone you don't have to decide what to think tonight. Ssshhh." She held him and rocked him gently. "We'll talk about it tomorrow for as long as you want. Come back to bed, okay?"

He pulled away and shook his head, 'I'm not going to be able to sleep.' He searched her face, the final argument; the one he'd been trying to avoid, firmly at the front of his thoughts. She hadn't wanted to have kids at all. She'd told him exactly that just last summer. "You never wanted kids." He reminded her, biting the inside of his lip, his breathing still ragged, his shoulders shaking.

"I know what I told you, but I'd do it for you Boone. Because I know how much it means to you, and I love you, I'd give my life for you. We could make it work, _I_ could make it work." She told him sincerely, her hand cupping the side of his face, her thumb brushing the tears off his cheek.

"That's not right, though. We _both_ have to want it, a baby, I mean. I can't be the only one, and you can't just want it _for_ me, you have to want it too." He started crying again, his confusion, and his shame at being unable to deal with this without breaking down, compounding his misery.

This time Shannon firmly pulled him towards the bed and threw the covers back, forcing him to lie down. 'Tomorrow, Boone, we'll deal with all of this tomorrow,' she soothed him, silently.

There was one more thing he needed to know, however, before he could even contemplate resting. Boone rolled towards her as she got in on her side, his tear filled eyes gleaming in the dark. 'Is there any danger to you if you don't have the surgery?'

'No, now close your eyes.' She pulled her right arm out from under the blankets and drew him in; he complied quickly, putting his head on her shoulder, sleep however, a long time coming for each of them.

All in all, it was a pretty shitty way to start their weeks' vacation.


	25. Chapter 25

Andrew noticed that his parents were very subdued in the morning, not being careful with each other, like they did after a fight, but still a little 'off.' He caught them glancing at each other thoughtfully when the others' back was turned, then their gazes would turn blank as they became lost in thought. Shannon touched Boone often, trailing a hand down his arm, or resting it on his hip as she stood beside him watching him cook. Andrew had notice that his eyes looked a little puffy and wondered if she'd made him cry again and was attempting to make amends. He wanted to know what was up, but decided to bide his time for a while, figuring that if it was any of his business, they'd spill the deal eventually.

After the dishes from Boone's famous French toast breakfast were washed and put away, they strapped the travel bags on the two motorcycles and headed for the open road. Boone had Map quested their journey and laminated the resulting instructions, giving them to Andrew to tuck into his inside jacket pocket, right at his fingertips if they were needed.

After the second stop for gas, with his parents' still acting weird, Andrew pulled his ear buds out, 'Boone?' It took him two more tries before he got a response.

'Yeah, bud?' Boone's answer finally sounded in his head.

'What's going on with you and Shan?' Andrew came right out with it.

'What makes you think something's going on?' Boone wanted to know, the bike revved slightly as he missed a shift. He cursed himself out loud and Shannon shot him a concerned glance, he shrugged.

'Well to begin with that's the third time you screwed up a gear, and you _never_ do that.' Even though he was usually a klutz, Boone had become highly skilled when it came to piloting the bike. 'And you guys are all, I don't know, kind of thoughtful or distracted I guess, like you've got something major on your minds, but I'm kind of nervous about reading either one of you. I don't know if I'll like what I find.'

'I didn't know we were so obvious,' Boone laughed.

'You are to me. So what gives? Can I know? Is it about me? Is it…bad?' He rattled off the string of questions, adding the last very tentatively.

'It's not bad, it's just big, and in a way I guess it's about all of us. Just give us some time with it first okay? Please don't pick it out of our heads till we're ready to tell you. And I promise you, we _will_ tell you.' While Shannon and he hadn't had time to revisit the subject of the previous nights' bombshell, they _had_ talked enough that morning, while preparing for the trip, that they'd agreed about sharing the information with Andrew once their decision was final.

The answer or lack thereof, made Andrew decidedly uncomfortable. 'You're not going to finally sell me to the gypsies are you?' He joked trying to settle a bit of his unease.

'Not this time,' Boone laughed again. 'They only offered me a goat in exchange for you, and I don't eat red meat, nor am I in the market for a farm animal as a pet, so I said no.' He gave the smart ass question an equally smart ass remark, then added some additional reassurance. 'Don't worry, bud, it doesn't involve any one of us leaving or us moving or anything, it's just something your mom and I need to talk through. We're all okay.' Boone took his left hand off the grip and dropped it to Andrews' leg, giving him a comforting squeeze.

'Okay, Boone,' Andrew slid his arms around and gave his dad a little hug, comforted only slightly, hoping that whatever it was, it would be resolved quickly. He didn't want to have to spend his vacation with two people who were only partially there.

Arriving at the residence of Franks' winery in the early afternoon, Boone pulled to a stop on the cobbles of the massive courtyard fronting the enormous home, and the three of them approached the large iron-bound wooden door.

Obviously expecting them, and most probably having heard the roar of the two bikes, a man dressed in a typical California casual outfit of golf shirt and khakis was already swinging the door wide, even before they gained the top step.

"Mr. Carlyle?" He asked.

"Boone," he automatically corrected, nodding his head.

"I'm Grant," he extended his hand and Boone shook it, not sure if it was the guys' first name or his last, no further explanation forthcoming. Maybe he was one of those one-name people, like Prince, Madonna or Cher, he speculated? The man greeted the others, "Ms. Rutherford, Mr. Carlyle."

Andrew giggled at the form of address; he'd never been called Mr. Carlyle before. They followed Boone's lead, providing their first names.

Grant advised them that he was the head of Frank's house staff as he ushered them in and lead them up the stairs to their rooms, inquiring after their trip. Suggesting a tour of the house, and a relaxing swim and afternoon by the pool once they'd freshened up after their long ride, he left them to get settled in.

Once he'd changed into his swim trunks, Andrew bounded down the stairs; Grant was standing at the bottom, waiting for them. Eager to get out to the pool, Andrew eschewed the tour of the house and asked for directions to the promised swimming instead, he figured that if he needed to find a room in the place, he could just get the information from Boone or Shannon. The water beckoned him, as enticing to him as it was to Boone, and he wasn't going to wait another minute. Grant put a bit of a crimp in his plans however, extracting from him a promise that he wouldn't actually go _in_ the pool until his parents arrived and he had supervision.

"Jeeze, you sound just like Boone," he groused. His enthusiasm only slightly diminished, he gave his word and headed off to the grounds at the rear of the house.

When Shannon got out to the back, Andrew had been there for a while and was rummaging through a bin inside the pool enclosure. Getting closer she could see that he was busy examining the floaty toys that it contained. Obviously none met with his satisfaction as he rejected each one, leaning further and further down into the bin, straining to reach the ones at the bottom, and find the one that struck his fancy. She came up silently behind him, and slapped his butt lightly; he jumped, startled, and almost fell inside the box. She grabbed him quickly around the waist, and righted him laughing.

"You scared me half to death!" He complained, twisting in her grasp to face her.

"I meant to," She said still chuckling. She ruffled his hair and then raked her hands through it, drawing it into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, while he rolled his eyes at her playful amusement. Her mirth gave way to a smile as she considered him, her wrists resting on his shoulders. 'Why do you wear your like Sawyer's?' She asked, the question suddenly occurring to her out of nowhere.

'I didn't know I wore my hair like James, I just thought I wore it like me.' He shrugged.

'You like him a lot, though, don't you?' Andrew nodded. 'You know if anything happens to us, you go live with Charlie and Claire, would you rather it was Sawyer? I could ask him.'

He pushed her away, alarm in his eyes, 'I know it's Charlie and Claire, and I don't think that James would have any idea what to do with me anyway, that is unless he's read Oliver Twist and sets me to working the streets! But why are you bringing this up now? Boone said what you guys were talking about wasn't anything bad. What's going on?'

Shannon pressed her palm to her forehead at her stupidity. 'Oh shit, I'm an idiot. I'm sorry baby. I didn't mean to scare you, bad timing,' I'm having a lot of that lately, she considered to herself ruefully. 'Boone told you the truth, what we're discussing isn't anything bad; don't worry. I should never have said anything about what I did. I just noticed your hair, and verbal diarrhoea kicked in.'

'Way to scare the little kid, Shan! Where is Boone, anyway?' He frowned at her from under lowered brows, pouting, not willing to forgive her just yet.

She shrugged and laughed, 'Kitchen, where else?' The tour had ended in that room and Boone had typically stayed behind, sending her on ahead to the pool. Grant had advised them of Andrews' decision, _and_ the promise he'd made, so Boone didn't want the boy to have to wait any longer than necessary before getting to enjoy some swimming.

As Shannon crossed to the water and bent to feel the temperature of it, Andrew finally found what he was looking for wedged between the box he'd been searching through and the fence; an inflatable raft. After throwing it in the water at the deep end, he dove in smoothly.

Shannon lowered herself into the cool refreshment as well, slipping in off the side and plunging deep beneath the surface. The fatigue that had overcome her, caused by the baking heat of the ride compounded by Boones' firmly enforced rule of leather jackets regardless of the temperature, lifted almost immediately. She paddled about, pushing Andrew around on the raft as she awaited her husbands' arrival, and the resumption of their discussion. She wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible; she was just as aware as Andrew that it was casting a pall over their holiday.

Shannon was almost as conflicted as Boone over the decision, but for totally different reasons. She hadn't considered the difficulties their possible child might face as he had, she'd only thought of the impact on the two of them; it hadn't occurred to her to even take _Andrew_ into account. Though she'd lived with the awareness of the possibility of another baby far longer than Boone had, she'd actually only given it minimal thought. When away from him, there was no reason to act, or even to ponder her options; quite obviously the only person she'd ever have more children with was Boone. Without him in the picture, it was about as much on her mind as calling Sabrina to say hi.

When she finally spied Boone crossing the lawn, she swam for the side and pulled herself out onto the concrete, suddenly nervous.

Boone entered the pool enclosure and eyed the water longingly, but with Shannon standing there, obviously waiting for him, he sighed and skirted the edge, closing the distance between them. She reached out and slid her hand from his shoulder to his upper arm, giving it a little squeeze.

'Cool off first, Boone, this can wait a few more minutes.' She pulled the towel from around his neck and nodded at the water.

Once he was sufficiently refreshed, they sat facing each other on the bottom of side-by-side lounge chairs, their knees almost touching, as their animated but silent conversation got underway.

Over the next few hours Andrew watched them occasionally, on some instances from the water, at others from the slide, a chair, or the raft. They didn't sit still long, though they always returned to their original positions. He surfaced once, after diving for a golf ball on the bottom, to see Shannon sprawled face down on top of Boone, kissing across the scars on his chest. Another time when he glanced over Boone was standing with his back to her, Shannon still seated on the lounge, he was leaning against the fence, his head bowed, half an hour later, the positions were reversed with Shannon standing at the fence and Boone seated.

The discussion had reached a particularly vigorous point when Andrew realized that someone was approaching from the house. Not wanting whoever was coming to see his parents gesturing wildly, but not saying anything, he called out a warning to them.

They stopped immediately and Boone rose to open the gate for the woman who was carrying a tray of food and beverages for them, a pre-dinner snack, she explained.

Thanking her as she placed it on a table and left, Boone checked out the selections with approval. He'd taken the time while in the kitchen, to advise the chef of their food restrictions, unnecessarily as it turned because Frank had already outlined them.

The three of them filled small unbreakable individual plates and carried them, along with plastic tumblers of lemonade back to the lounge chairs. They sat facing each other, Shannon scooting up to make room for Andrew on her chair.

They ate quietly, the comments mostly restricted to the food. Part way though, Boone suddenly looked at the two of them, seated facing him beside each other, and a smile creased his face.

"No," he said, decisively, immediately feeling the weight of the world slide off his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Shannon knew exactly what he was referring to.

"I _am_," there was a bit of surprise in his tone. "I _really_ am."

"Alright then, it's done." She put her plate down and half rose to give him a kiss.

While looking at the two who made up his world, Boone had come to the realization that they _were_ his world, and he was okay with that, more than okay actually, he really didn't _want_ any more than just them. He hadn't made the decision lightly; it was the culmination of everything they'd discussed that afternoon, though he'd had more than an inkling half way through just where his position lay. Shannon hadn't really strayed much from how she'd presented it the night before; that she'd do it for him, though he could tell that she was struggling with it too. He, however had been truly torn, flip flopping from 'yes' to 'no' several times.

Boone heaved a sigh of relief as they revealed to Andrew exactly what it was they'd been so conflicted about.


	26. Chapter 26

That night in bed, her head on his shoulder, Boone felt Shannon smile broadly. 'What?'

The satisfaction had been radiating off him in waves since that afternoon, 'You're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?'

'I guess I am,' Boone allowed.

She pulled away, and propped herself on an elbow, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

'I made a really big decision today, and I feel good about it. I feel like things have changed, like I'm going to be okay.' He tried to put it into words.

'You make decisions every day, Boone.' Shannon said, trying to draw him out. 'You run a business.'

'Not decisions like this one.' He shook his head, 'Not life altering decisions. Whether someone gets Mahi Mahi or Red Snapper doesn't even come close to what I decided on today, what _we_ decided on today, because it wasn't just me, it was both of us.' Boone pulled her close, 'And I even held it together,' he added with a touch of pride at the fact that he hadn't lost his self-control this time.

'Yeah, baby, you did, I'm proud of you.' Shannon snuggled tighter in his embrace, tracing her fingers over one of his hipbones. 'Any second thoughts?'

'None.' What he had was less than he'd hoped for, but far more than he'd expected, not being a greedy man he was content. "I love you, Shan." Boone whispered into her hair.

"I love you too, Boone." Shannon raised her face and kissed him gently, slowly deepening it, enticing him.

'We can't,' he reminded her, his breathing already laboured.

'We can do other things, though, brother dear.' She teased.

'Fuck, Shan, don't call me that at a time like this!' Her hand was already wrapped around him, his eyes rolled back into his head as she slid down his body.

A few minutes later, he shuddered deeply, and pulled her to him again, as he kissed her he could taste the saltiness of himself on her tongue. 'What about you?' He asked, concerned about her satisfaction as well.

'It was enough for me that I got you off.' Shannon smiled lazily; the sounds he'd made and the feelings he had while she was pleasuring him had sparked through her as always, more than sufficient to satisfy her. 'Sleep well, honey.'

In the morning they were directed to one of the solariums where a selection of breakfast foods had been laid out on a sideboard; after filling their plates they sat at the casual glass-topped table. On its surface was an extremely detailed map of the valley with hand-written numbers beside a few locations and a legend at the bottom giving further details.

"Did you all sleep well?" Grant asked upon entering the room.

Receiving a unanimous positive response, he went on to explain the notations. Frank had called several of his local acquaintances and arranged for private tours for them, all they had to do was call the number indicated and speak to the person named, and they'd be granted exclusivity.

Boone advised him that they'd already decided on a sightseeing tour on the bikes for the day, but they'd definitely take advantage of Franks' consideration tomorrow. Grant nodded in understanding, adding that he'd make sure that there would be a driver and a car available for them for their winery tour the next day.

They did the touristy thing for the morning and then stopped for a picnic lunch that Boone had packed. He'd been a bit hesitant at requesting full access to someone else's kitchen, knowing that he wouldn't have been all that comfortable under the same circumstances, but Franks' chef had been more than happy to grant him free rein.

Andrews' hand groped blindly in the Tupperware that had held the sandwiches, his fingers finally encountering the crust of what must have been the final half sandwich, then tangling with Boones' searching for the same thing.

'We'll split it,' Andrew suggested, tearing the peanut butter and lettuce stuffed bread triangle in half, and holding it out to his dad.

The afternoon was spent much in the same way as the morning, endless breathtaking scenery and lots of stops for photo ops.

The next day, they left the bikes at the mansion, and clambered into the back of the limousine, no drinking and driving, Boone had said, even though Shannon was sure he wouldn't consume more than a half a glass during the entire day. Still, she knew that _she_ would, and they'd each be on their own motorcycles, so she was happy for the liveried service. She'd made numerous phone calls the night before, and had scheduled several business meetings for them, after all this was supposed to be both a pleasure _and_ a business vacation, as they sourced out suitable vintners as possible suppliers.

The wines presented for them at the first stop were pedestrian at best, though they'd both falsely enthused over the mundane offerings, they hadn't committed to any purchases at all. The second place was marginally better, but still not up to the standards of something that they'd want to associate with their name. After lunch, they hit gold with the third location, however.

Andrew sat and listened as they praised the finish and texture, things he'd thought more associated with furniture than with a beverage. They truly lost him when they started talking about the "nose" and the "legs." Intrigued, he snuck a hand out and carefully snagged Boone's forgotten glass by the stem and pulled it towards himself. While no one was looking he casually took a sip. It tasted positively awful! Certain that he'd done something wrong, he tried another sip; he found it slightly better, but still not deserving of the praise with which it was being lavished. Maybe he needed a larger volume? He took a big gulp, and felt the heat radiate up from his stomach. That was better, he decided.

They moved on from the white to the blush and he did the same thing.

Even though the wine poured into the glasses was just a sample-sized amount, by the time the Merlot arrived he was having a hard time seeing just one of everyone.

When he hiccupped and giggled, almost falling off his chair, Boone turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Andrew pulled himself together and gave his dad an innocent smile.

The second time however, Boone peered at him closely, taking in the slightly glassy eyes and the slight smudges of red staining the corners of his mouth. He looked from his empty wine glass to Andrew and back again. Every time he'd found his glass empty, he'd figured he must have absently mindedly finished it while focusing on the conversation, he realized with incredulity that in fact Andrew must been the one polishing off the contents each and every time.

'You're drunk!' Boone thought at him in horror.

'Wha? Naw, m'not.' Even the boys' silent communication was slurred; he wobbled in his seat.

"He's drunk!" Boone blurted at Shannon, and stared at Andrew, his eyes wide and mouth gaping open in shock.

Andrew looked blearily across the table at their host, Keith, and giggled so hard that some of it came out as a snort. All his inhibitions completely absent he raised his arm and pointed waveringly, "He thinksh Shan looksh really hot in those shorts, but tha' she'd look even better out of 'em." He covered his mouth with both his hands and started laughing hysterically.

Keith looked startled and flushed bright red, his gaze flicked anywhere except at the three of them, too mortified to even wonder how the boy could have know that.

Shannon peered at Andrew, eyes narrowed, slowly she grinned and almost started laughing, forcing the smile off her face when Boone glared at her with indignation. "It is _not_ funny, Shannon! He's frigging wasted!"

Andrew leaned forward and threw up on Boone's boots, spattering a lurid dark red stain on the cuffs of his jeans and black leather of his footwear, getting a fair measure on the beige carpet as well.

Shannon jumped up and grabbed a handful of napkins, rushing around the table to where Boone was already starting to heave himself in reaction; she stuffed a wad of napkins at him and turned from him to deal with their son, leaving Boone to sort himself out.

Andrew threw up once more out in the parking lot, but mercifully not in the back of Frank's limousine. They got him back to the mansion and upstairs into his bed, Boone carrying him up the stairs after Andrew passed out on the ride back.

Andrew opened his eyes cautiously, his head throbbing; it felt like something had died in his mouth. Hearing a slight stirring he rolled his head to the right. Boone was sound asleep in a chair by the bed, his head cocked at an unnatural angle that was no doubt going to leave him in pain once he woke up. Feeling a weight on his right shoulder, he then directed his gaze in that direction. Shannon was lying in bed beside him, the covers down low enough that he could see the corner of the navy blue t-shirt of Boone's that she was wearing. He stared back at the ceiling again and tried to piece together the fragments of memory that were all he had of the previous afternoon. Giving it up after a few fruitless minutes he started to rise slowly; the hand on his shoulder tightened.

'Come,' Shannon beckoned, and slid out of bed, indicating that he should follow her.

Andrew scrambled gingerly across the expanse and got to his feet, swaying a bit unsteadily, feeling the bile rise in his throat as his stomach flipped.

She grabbed his arm and rushed the two of them, as quietly as possible, out of the room and across the hall, pushing him into the bathroom of the ensuite of their bedroom. He ran to the toilet and got to his knees in front of it, dry heaving over the bowl.

Shannon was standing by the open shower stall door, when he finished, the stream of water already started. 'Strip,' she ordered, pointing at his boxers, the only garment he was wearing.

Andrew did as he was told and entered the enclosure to stand gingerly under the spray from the showerhead, wincing at the force of the water as it battered his skull.

She was still standing there where he was done, though now she was holding a towel. She'd obviously left while he was bathing as there was a change of fresh clothes for him on the vanity, and she was now wearing jeans with the navy tee.

Shannon waited in watchful silence, an unimpressed look on her face while he dried and dressed, he avoided looking at her completely, her eyes figuratively burning a hole in his back.

Downstairs in the kitchen, she seated him at the table before she crossed to the fridge, returning with a bottle of sports drink, after exchange a few quiet words with the chef, she slammed it down on the table in front of him.

"Drink that," was her next order.

Totally dehydrated from his escapades, Andrew uncapped the bottle and tore off the security covering, thirstily chugging a quarter of the bottle before his mom reached out and snatched it out of his hand.

"Drink it too fast and you'll just puke again," she told him.

He nodded, and lowered his head, his fringe of hair hiding his face as he sat hunched in the chair in misery.

"Just what the hell were you thinking? If you even were, which I seriously doubt." She continued to vocalize the conversation; they weren't alone in the room.

Andrew explained about wanting to try the wine after listening to them discussing it.

"So you're trying to make this _our_ fault, then?" She threw at him, caustically.

"Well…." He whined.

"Don't you fu…" She bit off the half-word and took a deep breath, as a plate of toast was placed on the table in front of Andrew. "Eat that," She angrily shoved the plate under his nose, "slowly."

He nodded, slightly, and picked up a slice, nibbling at a corner disinterestedly.

"At least be big enough to take responsibility for your own actions! Do you have any idea what he was like last night? Do you know what you did to him?" Shannon demanded.

Andrew put the toast back down, as tears threatened.

"He spent almost an hour blaming himself, it took all I had just to keep him from a complete breakdown. Once he was over that he just got pissed off. In all our years together, I don't think I've ever heard Boone use the words he was yelling. And at _me_ because you were conveniently unconscious." The last words positively dripped with snark and sarcasm.

"I'm sorry," Andrew mumbled.

"Look at me, Andrew!" Shannon commanded through clenched teeth.

He raised his head as the first of his tears welled up.

"Now, what did you say?" She asked him, dangerously.

"I'm sorry, Shan." He started sniffling as he fought to not cry. He'd never seen Shannon quite so furious, he didn't even want to think about Boone's reaction.

"I'm ashamed of you, it's going to take a lot more than a simple apology to make up for this." It wasn't so much that she was pissed of at Andrew, after all she'd gotten drunk for the first time even younger than he currently was, sipping from abandoned champagne glasses at Adam and Sabrina's wedding; no, it was the reaction his stupidity had elicited from Boone, who even now, was entering the room.

He pulled a chair out from the table, and sat heavily, rolling his head on his shoulders as he tried to work the kink out.

Andrew hid his face again, his shoulder shaking slightly as he awaited Boone's judgement.

Boone exchanged a few silent words with Shannon, who then excused herself to get ready for whatever the day held in store for them. She gripped Boone's shoulder briefly as she passed him, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I'm disappointed in you," Boone said, softly.

There were no other four words that could possibly have cut him more deeply; Andrew started sobbing.

Boone just sat and watched him. He let him cry for a few minutes then started talking, putting his disappointment and shame into words.

Andrew withered under the barrage, unable to protest or repudiate any of it, by the time Boone was finished, his tears had run dry.

"We discussed a suitable punishment for you." Boone told him.

"W...w...what is it?" Andrew choked out.

"You're going to apologize. To Keith, and then to Frank as well when he gets here tomorrow, you abused his trust by behaving so poorly in front of one of his friends." There was more to the atonement, but Boone wasn't telling Andrew that just yet.

He opened his mouth, about to plead for lenience, mortified at the thought of having to face the man from yesterday, but stopped himself just in time, just nodding instead when he realized that the punishment was more than fair.

An hour later he stood in front of Keith, his cheeks red in embarrassment having just delivered the brief speech he'd rehearsed to himself in the car.

Keith accepted his apology, and then looked at Boone and Shannon standing behind Andrew, "So, he's mine for the day?"

"Yes," Boone confirmed.

Andrew spun to face them, his confusion evident, "What?!"

"You're going to work off the cost of the clean-up," Shannon told him, nodding at the place on the rug, which now bore no trace of the stain he'd caused the day before. "What time should we pick him up?"

Keith checked his watch, "Let's see, it's ten a.m. now, so I'd say he'll be done his shift at about six."

'Boone, no!' He silently entreated all the time knowing he had no grounds on which to base a committal of his sentence.

Ignoring him completely, Boone told Keith to be sure that Andrew didn't shirk at all, and if he thought that he hadn't pulled his weight, they'd simply bring the boy back the next day. Boone was fairly certain that he could rely on Andrew to acquit himself suitably, however.

Andrew watched sadly while his parents left, then he was led away to his labours.


	27. Chapter 27

Andrew was sitting on the curb, his elbows on his knees and his head hung low, when he heard a car pull up and approaching footsteps.

When Shannon stopped in front of him he raised his face to her, it was streaked with dirt and pinched with exhaustion, he still managed a little smile for her however.

"You ready to go home?" She asked. He nodded, and she held her hand down to help him up. He extended his arm, but kept his fingers curled closed, she frowned a bit and grabbed his wrist instead. She felt the pain he was in, the source of it emanating from his hands, the minute she touched him, but stopped herself from asking about it, wanting to hold off until she had him settled in the car. They crossed the parking lot and he stood by the vehicle waiting for her to open the door for him, keeping his hands, still in loose fists, pressed protectively to his waist.

Boone was watching from the far side of the seat, his eyes narrowed in concern, 'What happened to your hands?' he asked immediately, already aware that there was something wrong, as Andrew slid across the seat. 'Let me see them.'

Andrew turned them over slowly; the car bumping over the curb as it pulled out onto the road, and painfully straightened his fingers. The palms were a mess of broken blisters, oozing nastily.

Shannon gasped at the damage revealed. 'What were you doing?'

'Raking,' he responded.

'Weren't you wearing work gloves?' Boone questioned, Shannon could tell that he was struggling with himself again, fighting against the urge to take on all the blame.

'Yeah…in the afternoon,' came the chagrined reply.

Boone leaned forward to speak to the driver and requested that they stop at a pharmacy on the way home. Inside he bought some antiseptic, ointment, gauze and a couple of pairs of white cotton gloves. Once home he tended to Andrews' injuries, cleaning the wounds, smearing them with the ointment and helping him put on a pair of the gloves, silently thanking Jack and Sun again for the first aid lessons they'd given him.

It was awkward for Andrew to eat dinner with his hands all swathed, but he managed, and went to bed immediately after, totally spent from his day.

Shannon woke in the morning alone in bed. She searched for Boone in her head and found him mindlessly swimming laps in the pool. She nudged his consciousness and playfully sent him a picture of her lying naked and alone.

'Bitch!' he responded, but kept swimming.

She laughed as she got out of bed and, as was her custom, pulled on his abandoned t-shirt from the day before and her underwear. She opened the door to the hall, startling one of the house staff with the suddenness of it. Biding the woman a good morning she crossed the hall to Andrews' door and tapped on it gently.

She could sense the woman's amusement that she hadn't just gone right in his room without waiting for permission. She didn't know how fervently they respected each other's privacy, the enforced intimacy of their shared consciousness made them keenly aware of just how precious their personal space was. When she tapped again and still got no answer, she cracked the door open and peered in.

Andrew was still asleep, face down, his head turned to the right and his right hand, still in its white cocoon, palm up by his face, his left was buried, stuffed under the pillows; his right foot protruded from the blankets and was suspended out over the side of the bed.

Shannon opened the door wide enough to slip through and crossed the room. Gently, she drew one manicured fingernail down the centre of his sole. When his foot twitched, but he didn't wake, she did it again, this time getting a slight groan from him as well, the third time she tickled the sensitive skin, the leg retracted pulling the appendage back into the safety of its lair under the covers. She smiled as she sensed him coming slowly awake.

Andrew dragged his right hand down and placed the palm against the mattress, intending to push himself on to his back, he hissed in pain however as he put full pressure on it and lifted it quickly, squirming to flip himself with just his body instead.

He stretched and smiled in greeting, Shannon helped him to sit up, and perched on the edge of the bed so they could both examine his hands.

The fabric was stained where it had come in contact with the broken blisters, he moved to pull the gloves off, but she stopped him. 'They might be stuck,' she told him in response to his puzzled look. 'We should wait for Boone to do it.' When he nodded in agreement, she sent a silent summons.

Boone arrived a few minutes later, his towel-dried hair sticking up in all directions, his towel secured around his waist preventing the residual water in his swimsuit from dripping on the floor.

In the bathroom Shannon watched Boone as he ministered to Andrew carefully loosening the fabric from the boys' wounds, and peeling the gloves off. Surprisingly, he'd not been too adversely affected by the results of their punishment on their son. She'd half expected another round of self recriminations yesterday, but other than telling Andrew that maybe he'd learned to wear gloves right from the beginning next time, he hadn't said much. She chalked it up to Andrew's enthusiasm about how well he'd done that day, and in spite of his hands, how much he'd actually enjoyed himself. Boone had smiled his best lopsided grin in response to Andrew's realization that Boone had known all along that his "punishment" was probably going to turn out to really be anything but, he was aware that the kid loved being productive and also spending time in the company of adults. Still, it had taught him a lesson and given him time to reconsider his actions, prompting him to apologize to them both again.

After Andrews' shower, Boone applied a thin layer of the balm again and, instead of the gloves, wrapped gauze around his hands.

Downstairs in the breakfast nook, Grant made his usual morning appearance, asking after their plans for the day.

"Farmers market," Boone replied. On their second and final day of touring wineries, the couple had passed a sign advertising just that, and of course Boone was eager to visit it. "Do you think the chef would mind if I prepared dinner tonight? Frank's coming in this afternoon, isn't he?" Boone wanted to make a gesture of thanks for his hospitality; what better way than using his natural talents?

Grant assured him that the chef would welcome a night off and, to answer his question, Mr. Jackson was expected mid-afternoon.

"Great," he nodded, then smiled as a further idea occurred to him. "Would you like to join us as well?"

"How about everybody, Boone?" Andrew suggested. "They've all been really nice to us."

"Do you think Frank would have a problem with that? Maybe he doesn't throw dinner parties for his house staff?" Shannon directed her question to Grant.

"Mr. Jackson often has functions for us; he likes to think of us as his extended family, I'm sure he'd be very pleased. But that means there would be almost three-dozen people," Grant cautioned, "isn't that putting you out?"

He looked puzzled as the three of them laughed, then joined in when Shannon told him what her husband did for a living.

"You've got high expectations to live up to, then." He commented on parting.

With the empty travel and saddlebags, Boone estimated that they'd have enough room for everything he was going to need to prepare the meal that night. He didn't want to take the car again; the whole idea behind this trip was that it was supposed to be a motorcycle holiday.

They found the concentration of open air local vendors easily; the two of them trailing along after Boone as he let the selection fuel his imagination for a proposed menu. He discussed his choices with his "pack animals" for the day, making sure to include both Shannon and Andrew in the family outing. After purchasing almost the entire stock of chicken breasts from a free-range organic poultry farmer, asking the woman to hold them in her refrigerated truck until his return, he finally finished his purchases. He'd spied a food vendor of interest as they'd meandered through the stalls and redirected them to it now that his mission was complete.

Seeing the frozen yoghurt truck Andrew laughed and exchanged a weighted look with his dad that Shannon didn't comprehend. Once they had their treats of choice, the three headed to a picnic table where the two of them recounted their memories of Sundays spent together exploring their local market during Shannon's absence. Though there was no parading circle of dispirited equines topped by cranky or excited children wobbling in the saddles at this one, it was close enough to what they remembered that it evoked their long discarded recollections easily. They were experienced enough storytellers, developing the talent over the year as they'd shared their past with Shan, that they readily brought the instances to life for Shannon, making her feel almost as if she'd participated herself. She felt a small pang of regret, as she did whenever they told her of the things that she missed, but as she shared their excitement with them, her pleasure quickly overrode it.

Once they'd retrieved the perishables and carefully stowed them for the short trip back to the estate, they mounted the bikes and headed for their temporary home.

An hour later, the groceries packed away, Boone shooed the rest of his family out to the pool while he stayed in the kitchen doing a little bit of necessary prep work for his planned feast.

Andrew was half way across the room, happily contemplating different ways he could descend the slide when Boone brought him up short with the caution that he was, under no circumstances, to get his hands anywhere near the water.

The pronouncement even startled Shannon, who stared at him almost as incredulous as Andrew.

"But…but…how am I supposed to do that?" He cried.

"I don't know, but you've got open sores on those hands. You even think about not keeping them dry then that's the end of this vacation, right then and there." Boone went on to explain his reasoning; then finished with a final entreaty, "I'm not trying to be mean, Andrew, just _please_?"

Andrew nodded in agreement, seeing the sense of it.

Boone turned away from them, but Shannon could see his knuckles working, flexing white with the strain of keeping his composure. When he'd said that he felt like he'd turned a corner and was going to be okay, Shannon certainly hadn't expected a complete about face in just a few days. She didn't know where he was drawing the reserves of emotional strength from that he was exhibiting, but she was completely astounded by it.

As soon as they'd both left the room, Boone leaned forward, bracing himself on the counter and shaking, feeling almost as exhausted as if he'd just run a marathon, still determined to do his best to fight against his inner demons. He been too weak for far too long, he wasn't sure how long he'd be successful in his battle but he'd sworn a promise to himself to try.

When he joined the others out by the pool, he smiled at Andrew's creative solution. The boy was standing in the pool, deep enough in the water that the edge of the pool deck, against which he leaned, came to mid-chest. He had his schoolbooks spread out on the dry surface and was paging through one of the texts, his exercise book and pen to one side. As Boone watched he picked up his pen in his left hand, the one that had suffered less from his day of labour, and made a quick note, his bandaged hands, high and dry, just as instructed.

Boone paused to lean down and ruffle his hair as he passed, giving Andrew a chuckle and an approving grin.

Boone had moved from the pool enclosure up to the impressive outdoor kitchen set-up, which mirrored that of Franks' other house, when he felt a vibration, closely followed by a resonating whump, whump, whump. A commuter helicopter suddenly appeared over the roof of the mansion, the bulk of the structure having undoubtedly shielded the cacophony of its approach.

'Frank!' Andrews' excited announcement sounded.

When the man had said he'd fly up for a few days of their weeks' vacation, Boone had assumed a small private plane landing at a local airstrip and a brief limo ride; the possibility of a helicopter hadn't even entered into his imagination.

Shannon raised herself up on an elbow and shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun as she also regarded the craft.

Andrew closed his schoolbooks and ploughed his way through the water hastily, wanting to greet his friend, and, Boone surmised, to ask for a bit of a free ride. The thought of his son in an overgrown inverted eggbeater in the sky almost sent him into fits, though he wouldn't have prohibited it. He needn't have worried, however, the minute the couple disembarked and cleared the area the vehicle rose quickly into the air and sped away. Shannon could sense Andrew's disappointment, as he slowed his headlong dash across the lawn and proceeded at a slightly slower pace, his parents now following in his wake.

Minutes later, greetings exchanged, Grant, who'd responded to the unmistakeable arrival of his employers, preceded the couple into the house so they could get settled leaving the Carlyle's to return to their previous activities.

It didn't take long for Frank and Rene to change into casual wear and join them in the rear grounds. Boone left his station, accompanying the older couple as they passed the barbecue set-up, and waited until they were all settled and a staff member had left a tray of drinks and appetizers before hesitantly advised them about that evenings plans, breathing a sigh of relief at their enthusiastic endorsement.

The first of the guests started meandering into the yard in the late afternoon, by early evening the party was in full swing. Boone was in his element as he expertly prepared the Greek inspired menu he'd planned, receiving lots of assistance from various eager participants. There was a girl, probably in her late teens Shannon estimated, who glommed on to him at first sight, quickly agreeing to perform any chore he set her, in exchange for the opportunity to remain in close proximity to him. Shannon and Andrew watched her with amusement, Boone completely oblivious to her infatuation as usual, while she shamelessly flirted with him, until her mother realized what was going on and rescued her from any further self-humiliation by dragging her away. She spent most of the rest of the evening pouting, watching him whenever she thought she could get away with it without notice.

The meal was received with fervour by all age ranges in attendance, and praise heaped on the chef. Boone blushed in embarrassment, but graciously accepted the compliments with much more ease than he would have exhibited even just six months ago. Shannon and Andrew beamed at him proudly, and Shannon kissed him soundly, making sure they were in clear view of the teenaged hussy first, however.

When all of the guests had left except for Grant and the five residents of the house, Frank suggested after dinner drinks on the patio. Rene excused herself, pleading fatigue she headed for bed, Andrew quickly rising to tag along with her, the excitement of the day had left him tired as well. The four remaining indulged in some of Frank's most prized cognac, even Boone sipping at a glass with his coffee, though he nursed his one measure for the remainder of the evening, while the others had several. It was more early morning than late night by the time they followed Rene and Andrew's example and dragged themselves inside, Grant heading for his residence in one of the smaller homes on the estate, after bidding them a good night.


	28. Chapter 28

Boone awoke in the morning with Shannon spooned up against his back, her left arm thrown loosely around his waist, the side of her face pressed up against his shoulder blade. He smiled lazily and reached for her hand as it lay draped against his stomach; trailing a finger softly down the back of it, he wanted nothing more than to turn to face her and ravage her into insensibility. He sighed deeply at the impossibility of that happening, though knowing her timetable well, he still held out hope for tonight.

"Mm, hmm," he felt the rumble of the two moaned syllables as the bone of her jaw transmitted the vibration through to his scapula. He could feel her smile after she confirmed that a little extracurricular activity would definitely be in the cards for them at bedtime.

He turned her hand over and brought it to his lips planting a kiss on her palm. 'I can't wait.'

'We could do something else, to tide you over till then if you wanted,' Shannon offered, chuckling.

'I think I have enough self-control to restrain myself for a few hours until I can have the real thing,' Boone's answer was accompanied by a chuckle of his own.

Shannon returned her hand to his waist, snaking her arm around it and pulling him close, she moved her head and kissed down a few inches at the top of his spine.

When he felt himself stir in the early stages of arousal, he loosened her grip and pulled away from her, swinging his feet to the floor and stretching, stopping what ever it was she was intending before it went too far.

"Spoilsport," She picked up his pillow and batted him with it.

Boone glanced over his shoulder at her with a grin then stood and bent to look out the window at the morning sun. "It's time we got up anyway, we slept in."

"Boone, sleeping in is a relative term, and for you it means any time after dawn. For most normal people, _especially those on vacation,_ it's any time before noon." Like a cat, Shannon lithely stretched out across the width of the bed, flexing each limb to its fullest extent. "What time do you think it is, anyway?"

He looked up at the sun again, "Hmmm, nine; nine-thirty?"

She grabbed his cell off his bedside table and checked the display, snorting a laugh.

"What's it say?" Boone questioned.

"It doesn't _say_ anything bonehead, you have to read it," She quipped, childishly.

"Oh, God!" He groaned and covered his face with his hands, "However late it is it's still far too early for me to have to deal with your _rapier_ wit."

When he dropped his hands, Shannon held up the phone so he could see it.

He raised one eyebrow and gave a little self-satisfied shrug at the nine-fifteen a.m. time on the display.

Shannon threw the phone into the pillows and got to her feet on the opposite side of the bed. "Smart-ass."

"My, aren't we just _full_ of compliments today. I'm _so_ looking forward to what other bon mots you have to share with the class," Boone snarked with amusement.

At that, Shannon chased him into the ensuite, grinning in pleasure at his unexpectedly high spirits, hoping they'd last. He was such a treat to be around when he was on his game; he'd been absent from their competitive arena of verbal sparring for far too long.

Arriving downstairs in the breakfast area they found Frank alone, hidden behind an open newspaper that he lowered as soon as they entered. They noticed that he looked a little tired as he greeted them.

"Where's every one else?" Boone asked.

"Andrew and Rene have already eaten and are out by the pool." He stated.

Boone's head snapped in that direction as if he could magically see through the walls of the house. "Pool!?!?" Shannon snorted in amusement; Frank just appeared bewildered. She turned to the sideboard and selected some of the items put out for the meal.

Boone called his son, 'Andrew, what are you doing?'

'Morning, Boone!' He greeted happily, adding, 'Hey, Shan!' when he sensed her presence as well. 'I'm diving for golf balls, and I already did twenty-laps too!'

Boone shut his eyes and sighed while Shannon's shoulders shook and more snorted laughter erupted. He glared at her as she seated herself. "He was supposed to keep his hands dry."

"That was yesterday, Boone. He didn't give his word for today, he simply got to the water before you could extract another promise from him." She pointed out reasonably. "How is it _his_ fault that you were lazy this morning and got up late?" She questioned calmly, while all the time inwardly gleeful. She hoped she wasn't pushing her luck and he'd deflate again and go all mopey on her.

Boone looked like he was about to explode for several seconds, speechless, unable to formulate an argument against her logic, his face was screwed up and his fists were clenched in frustration as he searched for a rejoinder. "Fuck!" He finally spat out, giving up.

"Wow! Snappy comeback, brother dear, no wonder you've gotten so far in business with _that_ enormous vocabulary." She smiled smugly and lowered her head, spearing her soft poached egg, sending the runny yolk soaking into the whole grain toast on which she'd placed it.

"Bitch," he muttered, as she licked the tip of one finger and made an imaginary mark in the air, chalking up her win.

Frank looked between the two, their display again adding another facet to his increasingly bewildered attempt to grasp the dynamics between them. He sighed and shrugged and went back to eating his breakfast, continuing the conversation by confirming that they were going to accept his invitation of a personally guided tour of his winery.

They stopped by the pool on their way to the facility, Frank to kiss Rene before leaving and Boone and Shannon to warn Andrew not to give Rene any grief. "If he tries your patience or takes advantage, please feel free to sell him to some passing gypsy's, just don't trade him for a goat." Boone used the jest he and Andrew had shared on the way up to Napa. She laughed at what was obviously an inside joke and agreed solemnly.

Boone and Shannon dropped their playful goading of one another once they left with Frank for the winery tour. Much to his approval, but not surprise, each suddenly transformed from bickering siblings into the very epitome of business professionalism. They wandered from field to cellar to tasting room; their questions carefully considered and insightful, their grasp of the complex subtleties of the art of wine making quite obvious. He was gratified to be presenting the inside workings of his secret passion to two such discerning and deserved individuals. Because of their enthusiasm and honest interest, the time he'd initially allotted ran several hours longer than estimated, it was well past lunch by the time they finally emerged from the shadowy cool interior of the offices into the full heat of mid-afternoon.

Boone felt the sun and heat hit him like an upper cut to the jaw. He'd had far more of the wine than he'd intended, it had been so excellent he'd been hard pressed to put it aside after just one sip. Heading down the sidewalk of interlocking brick towards the waiting car he felt a little woozy as the combination of sun and alcohol momentarily robbed him of what little co-ordination he usually possessed. He caught the leading edge of his boot and tripped, falling into Shannon and almost sending them both sprawling; only her quick reflexes kept them both upright.

Frank turned immediately at the sound of the commotion. Boone was already examining the offending section of brickwork in an attempt to blame his innate clumsiness on a poor innocent paving tile. Shannon was standing with her arms crossed; a smug expression on her face as she regarded her husbands' futile attempt. She'd seen him fall in the middle of the polished floor of a banquet hall more than once.

When all the bricks proved to be perfectly flush, just as she'd suspected, she regarded Boone coolly. "Tripped over your own shadow again, didn't you?"

Game on again! He realized, "No, I think it was your enormous ego that got in my way."

Frank was starting to wonder how Andrew put up with them.

When they returned, after changing they joined the other two still out at the pool, Frank requesting food and beverages for all on the way through the house.

Andrew clambered quickly out of the water, wanting to know all about their day. He'd been invited but had begged off, the very idea of being surrounded by that much wine, rekindling unpleasant memories of earlier in the week.

Over a late luncheon, Rene and Andrew had shared a light snack earlier to carry them through; the five exchanged their news of the day.

The late night, the wine earlier, the food, plus the beer he had with his lunch, almost caused Boone to fall asleep in his chair. His head lolling on his neck, he jerked awake as Shannon poked him. "Lie down before you fall down, doofus."

Excusing himself, he rose and spread a towel on the grass several yards away and settled on it. Rene glanced quickly at him, and then back again, something was amiss but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Only a minute had passed before Shannon excused herself as well and went over to where he lay, kneeling to his side, she quickly stretched out beside him and snuggled against him, fitting into him perfectly like two halves of a whole. His left arm, which had been flung out over his head on the grass, immediately came down to wrap around her shoulder. They shifted, settling in, and were almost instantly asleep. Watching them, Rene realized what had nagged at her; when Boone lay down, he did so on the extreme right side of the towel instead of the middle, as if anticipating Shannon's arrival; it was obviously a long-standing habit.

Turning back to the table she saw that Andrew was already back in the pool, though just floating on the raft after his meal, and that Frank was starting to doze himself. She picked up her book and continued to read, the question that she wanted to ask her husband percolating in the back of her mind.

After a couple of dozen pages, she heard a short irritated snore emanating from the vicinity of the ground at her right. Glancing over she saw that a fly had landed on Boone's left arm, when he'd flinched a few times in a failed attempt to dislodge it; Shannon's hand flicked down from his shoulder, sending it on its' way, yet still they slept on, theoretically she should have had no way of knowing it was even there. It was the slight goad Rene had been waiting for.

"Frank?" She leaned over and swatted his arm, waking him.

"Wha…what?" He blinked at her, blearily.

She looked back over at the slumbering twosome. "They're special, aren't they?"

"I'm sure they think so, and I kind of think they're special too." He answered, completely missing her point; they were keeping their voices low, so as not to awaken them.

"No, Frank! I mean they're special in the same way you're special, they're like you aren't they?" Rene clarified.

He simply stared at her, blinking as his mind raced, he assumed as neutral an expression as he could, however it didn't fool her.

"Franklin Thomas Jackson!" She exclaimed in exasperation, "Do you not think I've known you long enough and well enough to be able to read the truth on your face? Obviously you're not answering me because you gave them your word, didn't you?" She didn't even question her certainty that she was right.

Franks' mouth opened and closed a few times, but inevitably he answered in the affirmative. "Yes. But they're about as much like me as the combination of all the grains of sand in an hour glass is like a single grain."

Rene's eyes widened in surprise, and she glanced at them again as she wrapped her mind around the concept. She knew her husband had what he called 'flashes of intuition' and 'déjà vu' she could only imagine, in comparison, what these two could do. The sound of splashing from the pool drew their attention, "And Andrew?"

"Him, too, even more than his parents." Frank confirmed.

Rene frowned, puzzled, wondering how all three of them could be gifted. Shannon and Boone weren't even actually related, except through their unique circumstances of multi-generational double marriage. She raised the question with her husband.

"I don't even think that they truly know for sure, and besides, dear, I gave them my promise. I've confirmed what you guessed, but as to what else they want to reveal, I have to leave it up to them." Frank apologized.

She pursed her lips in displeasure, and hazarded another guess, "Does it have something to do with that plane crash they were in, and the year they spent stranded?"

Frank looked decidedly uncomfortable at disclosing any more than he already had with out the permission of at least one of them. Once again, the sound of Andrew playing in the pool drew their gaze. "Hold on a sec."

Rene watched while he seemed to concentrate for a second, the next time Andrew surfaced he made his way over to their side of the pool and climbed up the ladder, not giving away the fact that Frank had summoned him.

"I've had enough for…" He stopped and regarded Frank for a beat as he imparted more information, "You _told_?" He turned to Rene, "You know about us? He _told _you?"

"No, dear, he didn't say anything to me, I guessed."

"How did you figure it out? We're so careful. What did we do? How did we give ourselves away?" The questions came rapid fire. "We're going to have to be even more careful, please tell me what we did?"

"It wasn't anything you did, dear. I figured it out from how Frank was acting around you all." She advised him.

He gave Frank an appraising stare, "Then I guess _you're_ the one who has to be more careful." He stated flatly in an authoritative voice.

Rene smiled, she couldn't imagine the last time anyone had spoken to Frank in quite that tone.

Frank looked at him for a second and then drew a deep breath, "I guess I will." He agreed.

Andrew wrapped himself in the thick towel Rene held out to him and then pulled up a chair; he spent the next twenty minutes answering all of their questions that he could. When it was obvious that he was becoming impatient with them, tiring of the probing, they both backed off.

Andrew had one question of his own however, "Would you please not tell Boone that you know? Just tell Shan and let her break it to him." He knew, even better than Shannon did, how Boone's moods could change in an instant. Though Boone had been remarkably upbeat for the last few days, Andrew was afraid that something like this might send him back into a depression again as he blamed himself for their discovery, even though it wasn't true.

They both looked a bit puzzled at his request, but, knowing that he must have a perfectly legitimate reason for it, they both agreed.


	29. Chapter 29

It was a few hours before Frank could get Shannon alone in order to reveal Rene's newly acquired knowledge. He seized his opportunity, following along behind her when she went to the house for a bathroom break. There were facilities in the pool house, to be sure, but Rene was already in one and Andrew in the other.

Shannon knew something was up when, upon her exit from the powder room, she found him leaned up against the opposite wall.

"May I speak to you in the study for a minute?" Frank had witnessed her reaction when she'd snapped on Boone at learning of his own awareness of their abilities, he only hoped she'd go a bit easier on him when she learned of Rene's discovery, and the fact that it was because of him.

He came out marginally better than Boone had; at the very least, she didn't swear at him and call him names. She'd never communicated with him telepathically before, but on hearing his admission; she projected the full force of her displeasure into his head.

"Anymore people find out, and they might as well post it on the state border signs." Shannon fumed after letting him know, in no uncertain terms, just how pissed off she was.

Frank gestured his apology helplessly.

"And now, I'm guessing seeing as you went to all this trouble to tell me privately, that you're expecting _me_ to tell Boone." She demanded with a beleaguered sigh.

"Andrew thought it would be best that way." Frank explained.

"Yeah, lucky me, I'm sure he did," Shannon responded, sarcastically. "Any more revelations this week, and I'm sure my brothers' head will explode. All right, I'll tell him. He's been pretty good this week, but you know this _could_ go either way." She warned, even though Frank had no idea what she was talking about. She spun on her heel and left the room before he could ask.

She finally got Boone alone when they returned to their room to shower and get ready for dinner that night.

"Boone?" She immediately knew she'd used the wrong tone when he turned to her, his face a mask of worry.

"What? Just what? What the fuck _now_?" He cried, waving his hands in the air in frustration. "Is there an asteroid speeding towards Earth, a tsunami approaching the California coast? What?" He named ridiculous calamities, in order to prepare himself for whatever it was she had to divulge. He dropped his head to his hands, shaking it.

"Boone, calm down." Shannon said soothingly.

He sighed and raised his head, though his fists were clenched. He might have been successfully battling his disease but there were limits, and he was reaching his. "Shan?" He pleaded, letting her guide him to sit on the bed.

She crouched to meet his eye level, "Boone," Shannon waited until she got his attention, "Rene knows about us."

His mouth opened and he stared at her for a bit, drawing a deep breath, he asked all the reasonable questions: where, why, when and how.

Boone digested the answers, his head bowed. "We're going to have to stop letting people in." He said, quietly.

"I know, baby." Shannon agreed.

"We can't let new people into our lives. Even though Frank said she found out because of him, not us, we just can't get close to new people anymore," He said as if she hadn't even spoken. "We can't do this," Boone gestured around the room, "stay at people's houses; let them spend several days with us. It's…dangerous."

"I know that Boone. I already agreed." The somewhat bleak future his words painted stung, but she knew he was right. Shannon tried to console herself with the knowledge that they had a fairly wide circle of friends "in the know" as it was. She wondered how he was going to deal with Andrew? As he got older and went from grade school to high school to university he was obviously going to form new friendships. That discussion could wait, she decided. She would call a family meeting once they got home.

They didn't discuss it when they joined the others in the dining room, though the thoughtful glances that Boone directed at Rene certainly advised all those present that he'd been apprised of her knowledge. He was much quieter than normal throughout the meal though, they all noted.

After consuming a cup of after dinner tea, Boone announced that he was going for a walk.

"I'll come with you." Shannon offered, already rising.

"I'd rather be alone." Boone shook his head.

"Boone, I don't think that's…" She started.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid Shan, this situation hardly warrants it; I just need to be alone for a bit!" Looking extremely upset, he stormed out. Andrew and Shannon jumped when they all heard the front door slam behind him. She worried that she'd pressed him too far, though if he was angry and slamming doors it was undeniably better than if he'd retreated into his shell of meek mildness.

She looked at Frank, "I told you it could go either way."

"I don't understand." He told her. "Why would _he_ think that _you'd_ think he'd do something stupid?"

"You don't know?" The two Jackson's shook their heads.

"I just thought you would, gossip being what it is." She shrugged hoping the gesture would lead them to think it was no big deal. Shannon glanced at Andrew who gave a slight nod of assent. "Boone…he suffers from chronic depression, I worry about him; we both do. He can over-react sometimes, so we tend to be a little over-protective." She made sure that her tone was light. If they didn't know about his depression then they certainly didn't know that he'd tried to commit suicide, and she wasn't about to tell them.

When they looked concerned, she rushed to assure them. "I'm sure all he really wanted to do was go for a walk by himself, it's how he works things through, he'll be fine." She hoped.

When Boone rejoined them an hour later, he seemed much like himself again, accepting a small measure of sherry, which he left mostly untouched, and another tea.

As Shannon had promised that morning, they had sex that night for the first time in almost a week. It was urgent and hurried; they strove for a quick release as they usually did after the regularly occurring brief periods of abstinence. When they were done, Boone lay by her side and pushed the covers down past their hips, running his hand over her perfectly flat stomach.

'What is it, baby? You questioning our decision?' She'd had a feeling that having sex again for the first time since reaching their negative conclusion might trigger something within him. She assumed that he was re-hashing their discussion of earlier in the week and could possibly be reconsidering their decision not to have another child.

'No,' Boone answered, surprising her, 'just remembering what it was like to watch Andrew grow inside you. It was such a miracle, but once was enough for me.' Boone gave her a big grin, then with a sigh pulled the blankets up and snuggled her in close.

The next couple of days passed by pleasantly. They did more touring, with Frank and Rene's local knowledge they explored places that they'd previously overlooked.

Frank finally got to satisfy his curiosity about their abilities when Rene packed Andrew off for a few hours leaving him alone with Boone and Shannon. Once she'd mentioned that she was going to visit a friend of hers whose grandchildren were over, he got permission from Boone to go along too and then scrambled to gather a few things into a backpack.

They were both given an opportunity to get to know Shannon a bit better when Boone accepted an invitation extended by their Austrian chef to show him how to prepare a few of his traditional national dishes. Armed with his ever-present notebook, Boone headed for the kitchen, leaving the others by the pool. Several hours later, in mid-afternoon he returned carrying a heavily laden tray, an excited grin the size of the state of Montana on his face. He quickly laid out the dishes they'd made, explaining each one, telling Shannon how he was going to incorporate several into his menus once he'd amended them to meet his stringent criteria and added a few of his own personal touches.

It was their last night in Napa, Shannon had been sending him subtle signals all evening; brushing her fingers against his when she passed him something at dinner, a laugh accompanied by a sultry glance at one of his only marginally humorous comments, casually tracing patterns on his thigh as the five of them had after dinner drinks and hot beverages in the den. Andrew had given them a bit of an amused glance and a shake of his head when he'd headed off to bed, recognizing the signs easily. Boone excused them both as soon as he felt they'd lingered long enough to be polite.

Upstairs in their bedroom, he pressed her back against the closed door and kissed her gently, teasingly, brief tantalizing brushes of lips and tongue, before deepening it, though still keeping it soft and slow. After a few minutes they moved from the entrance part way to the bed, and then paused again to continue, hands added now, though still little more than grazes.

Shannon finally tired of their dance, and pulled away, eager to divulge her secret purchase. She'd been saving it for his birthday, but had changed her mind at the last minute, stuffing it into her bag on a whim when she packed for the trip. His birthday was just a little over a week away anyway. "You get ready; I've got to get something from the dresser. I have a surprise for you." She turned him and pushed him towards the bathroom.

Boone made short work of it, when he emerged Shannon was standing by the bathroom door, her hands behind her back. His efforts to see what she was hiding were met with her deep throated laugh, "Not yet, Boone. You get naked and climb into bed; I'll just be a minute." He hurried to comply.

When he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, he turned on his side and propped his head up on his elbow in anticipation, though he wasn't prepared for the sight that the opening door gradually revealed.

Shannon was dressed in the most provocative lingerie he could ever have imagined, as a bonus it was in his favourite shade of dusky blue. A whimper escaped him along with her name, as he ran his eyes over the lacy demi-bra, panties and garter-belt, all topped by a diaphanous, completely sheer, thigh length kimono, that, though closed and loosely belted with a silken tie, left everything completely exposed, even her stockings were the same enticing shade of blue.

Shannon smiled sultrily; he was giving her exactly the result she'd been going for. His open face displayed surprise, pleasure and lust in equal measures.

She crossed to the bed, every movement exuding sexuality. Boone pushed himself up and slid across to her side, the covers falling to his hips. He was suddenly aware of his own nudity in contrast to her fully clothed form; he wished he'd left his boxers on.

"But I told you to get naked, Boone, didn't I?" She switched off all the lights except the bedside ones, using the rheostat to turn them to their dimmest setting, enough illumination by which to see without being intrusive.

Boone nodded, speechless, rising to his knees when she reached the side of the bed, sliding his hands up her back under her cover-up, pressing their bodies together and kissing her softly but deeply.

"You want to help me take this off?" Shannon asked with a twinkle in her eye, her voice low and throaty.

To her surprise and delight, he shook his head, no. 'You went to all that trouble to put it on, let's enjoy it for a while.' His words filled her head.

He touched her everywhere the various fabrics covered her, carefully avoiding any of her exposed skin, the eroticism of it unmatched. He'd quickly moved back from the edge of the bed pulling her with him, within fifteen minutes she was a puddle of primordial ooze lying on her back as he played his fingers and mouth over her. Finally he moved to one side and lifted each of her legs in turn, releasing the fastenings of the garter so that he could pull her panties down. He redid the fastenings, while kissing at the newly exposed skin and moved to kneel between her legs again.

'Isn't it time for my turn, Boone?' She asked, holding him back.

He nodded wordlessly, and let her guide him onto his back. Shannon straddled his hips and lowered herself onto him, leaning back with her hands on his thighs so that they could both see everything.

It was over far more quickly than either of them wanted. Boone reached for her arm to pull her down to his chest once the aftershocks had abated, but she evaded his grasp. She shrugged the kimono off then reached behind herself undoing the clasps of her bra; she then held it out over the edge of the bed, letting it drop to the floor. Only then did she let herself relax down against him carefully, keeping him inside her. She melted into him, kissing the side of his neck softly, the brushes of her lips feather light, interspersed with flicks of her tongue at his pulse point.

'I want you all over again,' he said, she could already feel him stiffening.

'Later,' Shannon promised, as she gave herself over to sleep.

She kept her word twice more during the intervening hours before dawn.

A bit reluctantly they packed the bikes after breakfast the next morning and took to the open road again. The meandering route that they followed over the next two days slowly worked them back towards home. Having explored the state during vacations and weekends in the years Shannon had been gone, Boone and Andrew had seen many of the sights before, but both found new joy in rediscovering them with her. The digital camera was filled almost to capacity when they mounted the bikes for the final short leg of the trip that would take them home.

As pleasant as it was to get away, they all had huge smiles on their faces when they finally pulled into their own driveway and the roar of the two engines dwindled away to silence for the last time.


	30. Chapter 30

Boone's birthday came and went. With their money they could have bought him a "Pied a Terre" in the city, but all he wanted was to be home with his family. They could have gotten him a fancy sports car like Shannon's, she thought he'd look particularly hot in a nice sleek black one, but he would have groused about the environment and still driven his diesel sedan or motorcycle. An expensive wardrobe would have hung in his closet while he pulled on a worn t-shirt and jeans. He was so much more about gestures than material possessions that, rather than getting him a gift, Andrew and Shannon banished him from the kitchen and made dinner for him instead. Shannon was proud that she'd only had to get Kevin on the phone three times during the preparations.

Boone sat at the table, forking up a tender morsel of catfish and remembered back to another birthday dinner spent at the same table.

Heather had made shepherds' pie, a comfort food that he'd certainly never had as a child; Sabrina would have shuddered at the very idea of a casserole made from such plebeian ingredients, but which had become one of his favourites. For his birthdays growing up they'd always gone out to eat in some fancy, upscale, overpriced restaurant where they could be _seen,_ by all the _right_ people. He'd still eaten beef in those days, though spearing up a slice of fillet mignon and carefully placing it in his mouth even then had given him a bit of a pause, like he'd known he was destined to completely overhaul the way he ate. Boone tucked into the ground chicken, vegetable and potato casserole with gusto, and glanced again at the leaves beside his plate.

Heather had decided that, at five, Andrew was old enough to select Boones' birthday gift himself and had bundled him into the car for a trip to the mall. Partway there, however, he'd asked her to stop beside a forested area. She'd watched while he'd ventured into the stand of trees and spent the next twenty minutes carefully combing through the forest floor, pausing now and then to rifle thought the fallen leaves, selecting some then discarding them before running back towards her on his sturdy legs, his prizes securely clenched in his fist. He hadn't done anything to embellish his gift, there was no glue, Bristol board or scrapbook, with his innate childish intuition, he'd simply held them behind his back, in their natural state, and then presented them to his dad. Boone had been speechless as he fought back the tears, managing to choke out a thank you.

When she'd tapped on his door later to bid him goodnight he'd been sitting bare-chested in bed, gazing at Andrew's gift of six unique leaves spread out on the coverlet before him.

"Did you…?" He'd asked the half question, without raising his head, picking one of the treasured items up and gently tracing a finger over its' delicate surface.

"No, Boone, I didn't have anything to do with it. He decided on the leaves and then picked them out himself." Heather had told him, crossing to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Boone had shaken his head, on the verge of tears, "I don't deserve him. He's so amazing. I love him so much."

Heather had picked his hand up and held it, stroking over the back, glancing at his other hand, lying palm up on the comforter, the leaf he'd been examining resting in the nest it formed, she could see the tattoo and the scars on his exposed wrist. She'd glanced at his nightstand; his silver bracelet was beside his glass of water. "He loves you too, dear." She'd leaned forward and kissed his brow, then stood and carefully gathered the leaves, placing them beside the embossed half circle of his bracelet, so he could still see them, then lifted the top of his covers, the gesture clearly indicating that he was to slide under them.

As he'd worked his way down, pulling his pillow with him, he'd thanked her. She'd kissed him again and turned off the light. "Happy Birthday, Boone."

Boone shook himself out of his memories, he knew exactly where the leaves were, of course. He'd had them pressed between two pieces of glass, the same size as the top of his dresser, and there he'd placed the finished product, just so he could see the first gift his son had ever chosen for him, every day. He smiled at his family. 'Thanks, guys, this is delicious.'

They both beamed happily back at him.

Andrew returned to regular school in the fall only a week after summer school wound to a close. Boone still couldn't believe that it was going to be the boys' last year of grade school. He fretted about the kind of hazing and harassment the then eleven-year-old might face in grade nine next year, but the decision had already been made, there was no going back now, and no point in worrying himself into a frazzle about it either. He would have in the past, but he was forcing himself, to the best of his ability, to abandon his old weak ways, determined to get on with his life. While it was still a fight, he found that it was actually becoming easier every day, though he knew with a sinking certainty in the pit of his stomach that he would probably never actually shake it completely.

Their ten-year wedding anniversary was still a few weeks away when Shannon entered Boone's office mid-day intending to put a file on the table he used as a desk, assuming that he was in the kitchen, where he belonged. However seeing his ball cap in the middle of the dark wooden surface, she suddenly realized that she could hear ragged breathing coming from his private bathroom, though the small room off the main office was in darkness.

"Boone?" she crossed the carpet and flicked the light switch on.

He was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up, his back against the cabinet, his head was tipped back and, while there weren't any actual tears on his face, she could sense that their appearance was imminent. Her shoulders fell, he hadn't had a relapse in months, she'd thought, _hoped_, that it was behind him. She'd been out at a client meeting and, after dropping her coat in her office, had come directly here with the file, that was probably why she hadn't sensed his distress.

"What happened?" Shannon asked as he pushed himself to his feet and brushed past her, shaking off her hand as she rested it on his arm. He went to stand in front of the aquarium staring sightlessly down at Scott and Steve.

"I fired Stacey." He choked out shakily; one lone tear traced its way down his left cheek.

"Oh, Boone, I'm sorry baby." She frowned slightly however, thinking there must be more to it, firing an employee who so was so deserving of dismissal certainly shouldn't have broken him. This time when she touched his arm he let it stay, though the presence of her hand triggered a few more fat tears. "You knew it was inevitable, honey. We discussed this." She led him to the couch and then closed his office door firmly.

Seating herself beside him, she asked again, silently this time, the closed door giving them privacy. 'Tell me what happened, Boone.'

'I don't understand, I gave her every chance Shan; she could have had a place here. Why did she throw it all away?' He pleaded with her for an answer.

'The beginning, Boone, tell me from the beginning.' Shannon urged soothingly, still puzzled.

He replayed the scene in his mind, sharing the memories with her as he related the events.

He'd been at his station concentrating when the sound of a forbidden cell phone jarred him. There was a strict rule in the kitchen, no cells, not even on vibrate, even Boones' own was turned off, if there was any emergency, the caller could phone the business number and get Margie to page. It was, of course, Stacey's phone, and not only hadn't she turned it off, or apologized, to his utter amazement she'd actually taken the call and then prattled on about what shoes she was going to wear to a party. The rest of his group shuffled their feet nervously and tried to pretend not to notice while he became increasingly angrier. Then with a "poof" a pot had caught fire on the stove, the one that Stacey was supposed to be watching, the one with the roux in it for the reduced fat béchamel, the one that just _happened_ to be Boone's favourite sauce pot. He'd reacted quickly, snatching up a pan and smothering the flames, while bellowing her name and cursing like a dockworker.

'I snatched the phone out of her hand and threw it against the wall, while she just stared at the stove. I lost it on her completely and fired her on the spot, Shan. I didn't even bring her in here to do it privately. I just screamed at her right in front of everyone, while she pleaded with me not to make her go. I'm so ashamed, and I feel so betrayed. I reacted like a spoiled child but I'd just had enough of her. I warned her time and again, I tried so hard with her, why didn't she listen? I gave her five minutes to get her stuff and then escorted her out the back door while she cried. Then I just started shaking and came here, you were only a couple of minutes behind me. Why did she let me down so badly? _Was_ it my fault? I'm usually such a good judge of people, and I tried, god knows I tried. Maybe I just didn't try hard enough?' His shoulders trembled as he rode out the aftermath of the resurgence of adrenaline the retelling had kindled, crying freely now. "Fuck." He swore loudly, annoyed with himself at getting so upset.

'You don't honestly believe that, do you? You're too smart for that. You know very well it wasn't you, it was her; she's a slacker. She hid it from you well enough at the beginning that your usually excellent assessment of people didn't pick up on it. She's probably practiced concealing it so often that it comes second nature to her. Once she was in the door, she started backsliding and reverting to type. Everyone else has succeeded so beautifully Boone, you chose almost every single one of them wisely, but even _you_ can't be perfect all of the time. She wanted to be president of GM without ever earning the right, without working for it, for some reason she thought the world owed her a living. This has been coming for a while; even a blind man could have seen it, stop beating yourself up about it.' Shannon assured him.

As if to underscore her point there was a tapping at the door, accompanied by Lucy calling his name, "Boone?"

"We're busy Lucy," Shannon answered for him.

"Oh, Shannon, you're there, good, we were worried. Is Boone okay?" Lucy called through the door, ignoring Shannon's words.

"He's fine, but we're busy just now, come back later." Shannon repeated.

"Yeah, okay." Lucy still pressed on, her concern for Boone overriding Shannon's instructions. "We all just wanted him to know that he did the right thing, I mean, not that he needs our permission or anything, but he was right to let Stacey go. Anyway, umm, Terry's trying to salvage his pot, and I'm just going to go restart that béchamel for him, okay?"

"Thanks Luce," Boone answered, trying to keep his voice level. "Thank everyone for me, I'll be back shortly."

They heard her retreat down the hall.

'See? You were right, even your staff thinks so. I think you're more upset that you lost control, than that you had to fire Stacey. You held things inside for far too long Boone, letting them build up, refusing to face the truth about her, and then you erupted. It's not good, just look at you.' Shannon told him gently.

'I know. I've been doing so well lately too. It hasn't been easy, but I've really been trying. Damn it that I let that girl make me lose it when I thought I almost had it beaten. I acted so badly, so unprofessionally.' He admitted, though still taking responsibility for his actions, typically not placing the blame on Stacey.

His words told her she was right in her assumption; he was more upset with himself than Stacey. 'You're an artist Boone everybody expects a little temper tantrum from an artist every now and then. You've seen the shows on the Food Network; you know what a pissy bastard Gordon Ramsay can be.'

'Shit, you don't think that all my people consider this Hell's Kitchen do you?' Boone wiped his forearm across his eyes, followed by his palm, clearing away all his tears, and attempting a smile.

'If it's hell working with you then it can't be too bad a place at all.' Shannon chided.

'I need to get back, I guess. I should apologize to everyone, I acted like an ass.' His face wrinkled up a bit again.

Shannon stood and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. 'Half an hour, Boone; give yourself half an hour first, and then go back. Your face is all puffy and you look like shit, you're still a little worked up too. Just have a cup of tea first and give yourself time to think and get your composure back. You want me to sit with you, you want to talk some more?' She offered, amazed and pleased that he was pulling himself back together so quickly. He really _was_ doing better; even just six months ago he would have been moping for days.

Boone shook his head, and then changed it to a nod instead. 'I'd appreciate the company, if I'm not keeping you from something important.' He looked hopeful.

'There's nothing more important than you.' Shannon assured him as he rose to fill the kettle he kept in the bathroom, and she resumed her seat. 'Make two cups, okay?'


	31. Chapter 31

For their anniversary they went back to the spa for a weekend again, though this time it was Boone's treat. As they swept into the holiday season, Shannon was glad that he'd taken the time for himself, their first Christmas in the catering business was going to keep him hopping, she knew.

The bookings were coming fast and furious, and on top of that he still got calls to make baked goods for school and church bazaars. As always, Boone tried to please everyone, though with a full staff and their expanded facilities it certainly made it simpler and was far less of a demand on his time and energy.

It was a Saturday afternoon at the beginning of December, Andrew could sense the disruption in the air as he descended the stairs to the kitchen, knowing there was an argument underway before he even saw and heard his folks. _Heard?_ Must be serious, he decided, though they weren't yelling, just speaking especially politely, it was a sure sign.

"Boone, I'm not asking permanently, just this once. We had one when we were kids," Shannon was saying in an overly syrupy tone.

"No. It's not happening, Shan. I'm not budging on this." Boone responded flatly.

"Hey guys, what are we discussing now?" Andrew went to the fridge and pulled out the milk jug.

Boone automatically went to get him a glass. "Your mother wants a real tree."

"Really?" Andrew had never had one; it sounded intriguing; he poured his beverage and put the jug back in the fridge.

"Yeah, I thought it would be nice, we could all go and cut it down ourselves." She directed her comment to Andrew, sensing she might have a compatriot on her side

Andrew nodded, interested.

"_Cut_ it down. Cut? That sounds so festive and jolly! Falalalala lalalala," Boone sang, "Let's all go murder a tree! Fala. Happy times, folks, for everyone but the _tree_." He spat.

"Oh, for god sakes, stop being such a tree hugger, go rescue a baby bird if you want to make yourself feel all noble." Shannon rolled her eyes. "Besides which, these trees are grown for just this purpose. If anything _brother dear_ you're denying the Christmas tree growers of California their livelihood."

Andrew got himself settled at the table, he wanted to enjoy this; it had all the promise of proving quite entertaining.

"Niiiice, and I'm denying beef farmers their livelihood because I don't eat red meat. That doesn't mean that I'm going to buy a porterhouse, stick it in a corner with baubles on it and then throw it out a week later, just so I can line their pockets." Boone argued, reasonably.

"Look, you guys developed your own traditions while I was gone, maybe I'd like to have one of my own with you." Shannon tried a different tack.

"Tradition? It's going to be a tradition now is it? I thought you said it would be just _one_ time." Boone pounced.

The next fifteen minutes would have done the Harvard debate club proud as they argued back and forth. Andrew sat and finished his milk, adding a cookie from the tin on the table, when it looked like he'd have time to eat it too. He waited for his opening, which Shannon provided just as he polished off the last crumb and downed the final sip.

"So you'd actually deny your son the experience of having a real tree?" It was a low blow and she knew it as she voiced the childish argument.

Boone was just about to call her on it when Andrew spoke up. "It sounds like it could be fun, Boone. I'd like to give it a chance."

Boone gave him a wounded look. "Traitor."

The next Saturday morning they all set off in Boone's sedan. He'd searched through the back of the garage and emerged with a chain saw, but Shannon made him put it back.

"Boone Carlyle and chain saw don't belong in the same sentence." She shivered as she pictured splashes of crimson staining a carpet of fir tree needles. She pointed decisively to the handsaw hanging on the wall.

Boone had been pouting a bit, but once they got in the car, and Shannon stopped gloating, he did his best to get in the spirit of the outing.

At the tree farm they wound their way back and forth through the evergreens, waiting for one to grab their attention. Andrew finally gave an excited cry and pushed through some boughs to get to the one he wanted, "Over here guys!"

They circled around it, approvingly.

"Okay Boone, show us your Paul Bunyan impression." Shannon urged, somewhat sceptically.

He placed his hand on one of the boughs, "Sorry little guy." Boone intoned solemnly, his other hand over his heart, as he sniffed a fake tear.

The other two snickered and rolled their eyes at his melodrama.

Boone got on his stomach; he'd had the foresight to wear his motorcycle jacket and bring his riding gloves, and wriggled under the tree, managing to poke himself in the eye only once, however his hair got tangled twice. They could hear muffled cursing and then the sound of the blade sawing back and forth on the trunk, the soles of his exposed boots rocked in time to his efforts. After about five minutes he scuttled back out.

"It's just about all the way through." He told them getting to his feet, there was a red welt on his right cheek where he'd gored himself on a branch. "I'm just going to go around the other side and finish it off. When I yell, can you please try and catch it so it doesn't fall on me?"

They nodded quickly, and moved to either side, while he burrowed back in again.

They didn't have long to wait before Boone hollered, "Okay," and the tree started teetering, falling in the one direction that they hadn't counted on, the two moved to try and grab it, but didn't quite manage. The trunk kicked back, the butt end almost catching him in the forehead, but instead the sap covered trunk scraped painfully down the left side of his face.

"Way to watch my six, guys." He complained, wiping his glove across the sticky mess, succeeding in smearing it even more over his face and in his hair.

"Here Boone," Shannon handed him a tissue, which of course just stuck to the goop and left him with hair, needles, blood _and_ bits of Kleenex obscuring half of his face. He looked like a failed decoupage project attempted by a kindergartener.

"Fuck it." He gave up attempting to get the remnants of tissue off his glove and cheek and pulled the rope from his pocket so he could loop it around the trunk and drag the conifer out to his car.

Boone got it bound up in other trees twice before Andrew and Shannon relieved him of the cord and took over the task themselves, Shannon humming Monty Pythons' The Lumberjack Song in amusement at his complete ineptitude.

"Bitch." He scowled at her as Andrew snorted and snerked. Boone kicked at the tree as they tugged it past him. "And you too." He shook a finger at it.

In the parking lot the attendant took one look at Boone and commented, "They don't usually fight back that much, you must have gotten real feisty one, sorry. I'll have to up their meds next time."

Shannon and Andrew burst into gales of laughter while Boone pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and paid the guy, smoke almost literally coming out of his ears. "Asshat," he muttered stuffing a fifty into the man's outstretched hand, his gaze challenging, just daring him to ask him for more.

"You want help getting that onto your roof?" He offered. They usually had at least one paramedic visit per season, he thought this guy looked like he was going to be this years' winner, thank god he'd gotten them to sign the indemnity waiver before setting them loose in the fields.

"What do you think?" Boone asked tersely, his lip curled.

"Ah…I think I'm going to go back to my nice safe hut." He wisely backed away.

Boone was a lot stronger than he looked, after flinging a blanket on to the roof he grabbed the tree and pitched it into the air, his anger adding even more oomph than he usually possessed. The hapless fir sailed over the car completely and landed on the asphalt on the other side.

"Motherfu…"

"Boone!" Shannon exclaimed. "Calm down, let us help."

His shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded.

She pulled the blanket off the roof and put it on the pavement. Seeing what her intention was, Boone moved quickly to assist. The two adults rolled the tree up into as compact a cylinder as they could and held it tightly while Andrew wound the extra rope around it. After popping the trunk and folding down half of the rear seat they stuffed it in the car breathing a sigh as they regarded their safely stowed captive.

"Now we just have to get it home, into the den and set up straight." Andrew commented quietly.

"Aren't you just full of good news?" Boone's sarcasm hung in the air.

Several hours, one broken picture and a lot of cursing later, their Christmas tree was finally in place. Boone poured himself a huge scotch, flopped down on the couch and let Shannon clean him up with peroxide and wipes. To their mutual agreement, one proposed family tradition was completely abandoned.

The fiscal year end for CR Catering was January 31st. Many businesses didn't make it through the first year, and it was almost unheard of for one to turn a profit in that time. Boone already knew that they were going to buck the trend and come out ahead; he monitored the books carefully and went over them with Shannon on a regular basis, insisting that she know their financial position as well.

It was the end of February before their accountant finished his audit and they met with him to get the preliminary results. Boone gazed at his wife as she sat in stunned amazement, staring at the bottom line.

"W…w…we did it!" She stuttered.

"You bet we did. You had doubts?" He grinned; it was amusing to see her slightly derailed.

She shook her head, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly, her hands flapped in the air. "I fucking have a job! I'm fucking good at something! Holy shit!" She reacted like a cheerleader who'd just found out she'd been elected prom queen, Boone quirked an eyebrow at her juvenile outburst.

The accountant blanched at the colourful language, hoping he had no other clients in the outer office who could hear her.

"I take it you're pleased?" Boone asked nonchalantly.

Shannon squeeled like a fangirl at a Justin Timberlake concert and flung herself into his arms, kissing him and almost sending the chair he was in, and both of them, crashing over backwards. "I love you! I love this! Holy shit, I made money!"

"Uhm, I think it's more like _we_ made money Shan." He protested.

"Shut up!" She kissed him again.

Once he fought her off, and got her to sit back down, Boone spoke about the plan that they'd already formulated on the way over, communing silently with each other across the many yards of asphalt that separated them. It was probably not customary for their accountants' clients to arrive on motorcycles, but that was what they'd done, the beautiful weather had proved far too tempting.

The man in the business suit regarded his eccentric clients, dressed in black leather and smelling of a mix of internal combustion engines and outdoors, and made some notes. "You want to retain ten percent net profit in the business and the rest goes back to the staff?" He verified.

They both nodded. This whole venture had been about personal satisfaction, most importantly Boones', not about money, they had more than enough of that to spend in three lifetimes, though Shannon still basked in the glow of their accomplishment.

The next week they convened a meeting in the company kitchen. They'd discussed which one of them would speak, naturally Shannon though it should be Boone, he was in charge of more of the staff than she, but he reasonably pointed out that she was the business manager, and as such, was the voice of CR Catering.

"I'd like to thank everyone for throwing their lot in with us. It couldn't have been easy to risk everything and take a chance on a business run by a woman who had never actually even had a job, and a man who had decided to become a chef even though he had no training and had never cooked professionally. Throw into that the fact that, except for a few of you, you were all being asked to perform tasks that were completely new to you. We owe a great deal to all of you, thank you." Shannon stopped and that point and the two of them started applauding, the rest joining in slowly, still not sure if the outcome of this meeting was going to be good or bad.

Once the clapping died down, she took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder at Boone, giving him a private half smile. He smirked back and nodded his head at her to continue.

"So, okay, I guess you'd all like to know why we're gathered here." She opened her jacket and pulled a wad of envelopes out of the inside pocket. A few people drew frightened breaths and looked terrified, certain that she was going to hand them all their walking papers, but the majority gasped and smiled in anticipation.

Andrew stood with his back to Margie, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders; she was one of the pleased ones. He smiled at his mom, and laughed softly, he'd picked up on the mixed emotions of those in the crowd, and knew that Shannon loved the drama she was creating.

She went on, continuing in a neutral tone of voice. "Well…we uhm, we met with our accountant, and…"

"Oh, for god's sake Shannon, stop acting like some soap opera diva, and just get on with it!" Boone exploded with a roll of his eyes, tossing his arms in the air.

"Spoilsport." She pouted at him, then turned back to everyone with a grin. "We did better than we could possibly have imagined. We know you weren't expecting it, but we've got profit sharing cheques here for everyone."

She held the envelopes for Andrew who strode forward and took them with a grin. He doled them out smiling happily.

The staff tore them open, gasps of amazement following hard on the heels of the sound of ripping paper.

"So," Boone said, "I've heard rumours that there's a really good catering company in the area that can throw together a party in a hurry. If anyone knows of a place like that, maybe we could get them to come to our house and cobble together a celebration?"

The food locker was thrown open and cars, trucks and vans filled in record time.

They danced together in their backyard for several songs until someone realized just how good they were. After that people watched them like they were Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing. They broke out everything they'd ever learned from the dance classes they'd taken together. Boone's breathing was heavy as Shannon twined her leg around his, laying well back in his arms, her throat exposed in the light of the solar lights' dim illumination.

He shuddered as he leaned forward and kissed her neck once the last strains of the music died away. 'Later,' he promised silently.

'Many times,' Shannon responded, stroking a thumb across his cheek.

The party continued and Boone found himself across the road, standing on the slats of their dock, a sense of peace and completeness he hadn't felt in years cocooning him. The rest of his life stretched before him, he was looking forward to the journey.

Someone had started a bonfire on their beach; he heard the sound of laughter and the splash of either brave of drunken people in the somewhat chilly water, he knew that Andrew was one of the brave ones.

He felt Shannon's arms circle around him under the supple leather of his blazer. She slid her hands up the front of the softness of his grey cashmere sweater.

'Happy?' She kissed the side of his neck.

'You have to ask? What's the good of being telepathic then?' Boone thought.

Shannon laughed quietly.

With a whistle and a bang the sky erupted in a colourful display of fireworks. It was as if they'd hired George Lucas and ILM to provide the backdrop to their party, though it was only the neighbours from across the lake celebrating some occasion.

Boone turned in her embrace. Andrew watched from where he stood in the thigh deep water as they kissed, their lips and souls entwined forever as surely as their hearts and minds.


End file.
